Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
She spots us, her gaze taking in the gang and giving me no more attention than the others. She weaves through the crowd with confidence and I force myself not to stare like an idiot.
She greets Willa and Mazzy first, hugging them with a bright smile. “Hey, guys.” She smiles at Foster and King, gives me a slight nod. “Where’s Atlas?”
Foster snorts. “Off with some girl.”
Farren’s eyebrows lift. “Really?” She looks around the table, gaze landing on me. “It’s just… you two are the last single guys in the group. You’re like each other’s wingmen.”
I don’t know if Farren is saying that to keep our cover tightly in place or if she’s trying to send a deeper message, but it’s Mazzy who teases, “Don’t tell me you have a crush on Atlas?”
Farren laughs, shaking her head. “I know better than to mess with hockey boys. Besides, Rafferty would kill anyone stupid enough to even look at me.”
I sip my beer, not sure if I want to laugh or put Farren over my knee. Christ, if only they knew the dirty things I’ve done to her, but I have to say, she’s selling her disinterest in the Titans men well.
Farren slides onto a stool beside me, her eyes meeting mine for a split second before she looks back at the group. “So, what are we talking about?”
“Tansy being gone for good,” Willa says, her tone laced with satisfaction. “Brienne cleaned house.”
Farren’s smile softens. “She really did right by Raffety. She’s quite the woman.”
“Yes she is,” I say, lifting my glass. “Here’s to Brienne Norcross.”
We all raise our drinks in agreement, but I can’t focus on the toast. Farren’s foot brushes against my leg under the table, a subtle but deliberate touch that sends a jolt of awareness through me. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, catching the faintest smirk on her lips before she turns her attention back to the conversation.
If this is how the night’s starting, I have no idea how I will survive it.
Pretending to be just friends with Farren feels like some kind of cruel punishment. Her laugh is more musical than usual, her smile wider, and her eyes keep catching mine. She keeps stroking her foot against my leg and I swear it takes every ounce of willpower not to grab her hand and pull her onto my lap right here in front of everyone.
“So, Mazzy,” Farren says, her drink cradled in her hands. “What’s it like playing music in front of a live audience? I’d be terrified.”
Mazzy laughs, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of her glass. “Terrified is exactly how I felt the first time. I still get a little nervous, but once I’m up there and people start vibing with the music, it’s the best high in the world.”
“She’s amazing,” Foster adds, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. “People in this city love her. She could play the phonebook and still get a standing ovation.”
Mazzy rolls her eyes but blushes, her happiness evident.
Farren turns to Willa. “And how’s our favorite doctor?”
King elbows Willa. “Tell them about the Santa attack.”
“Santa attack?” Mazzy snorts. “What in the hell?”
Willa shakes her head, chuckling. “So, we had this guy come in—middle-aged, wearing a full Santa suit, beard and all. He’s stumbling through the doors, shouting, ‘I need a doctor! I’ve been attacked!’ Naturally, we’re all concerned, thinking he’s been mugged or something, right? As I approach, I see he’s clutching his chest, and I’m worried he’s having a heart attack. But as he gets closer, I see brown fur nestled inside the fur trim and realize it’s a live squirrel.”
Mazzy gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “A squirrel? What?!”
“Yep, a squirrel.” Willa laughs. “Apparently, this guy thought it would be fun to surprise his family by climbing up a tree in his Santa suit to ‘deliver presents.’”
“And a wild squirrel attacked him?” I ask incredulously. They always seem so cute and docile.
“Not entirely wild. The family has been feeding it for a few years and it will come take food from their hands. It’s pretty tame, I guess.” Willa ducks her head and snorts. “Except when Santa climbs up its tree. Apparently, it freaked out and launched itself at him.”
Foster is already laughing, his shoulders shaking. “No way. How do you even treat a guy for that?”
Willa smirks. “First, we had to get the squirrel off him, which was a team effort. This little guy was pissed. It took three of us, a towel, and a bag of peanuts to coax it out of the fur trim on the suit. Then we realized the squirrel had scratched Santa pretty good, so he needed a tetanus shot and some stitches.”
“But what if that squirrel had rabies?” Mazzy asks.
“That was a concern and normally, the squirrel would get sent off for testing, which means killing the poor thing and testing its brain.”