Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
And to Trent, I’m basically considered Jake’s property.
He wants me.
I want to deck him. But I can’t even try, because Rocky will break character to protect me, and we all need him to maintain this friendship.
Disgruntled, I face the bar and do my best to ignore Trent. It’s safe to say that most of the rumors at VCC about the firstborn Koning heir being a grieving widower are bullshit.
He’s not a tortured, lovesick soul.
He does, in fact, have eyes for other women.
Wintering at the Alps with him, I saw Trent openly checking out ski bunnies on the slopes. Later, he bragged to Rocky about the threesome he had with the girls. It’s not like the holiday trip consisted of any servers or club members who’d pick apart the tender story about the death of Trent’s wife.
It was a Koning family and closest (most-trusted) friends vacay. One I’m pushing so far down, I actually might puke.
While Trent collects his whiskey off the counter, I ask the bartender for a Guinness, and Trent moves toward me, about to approach.
I stiffen.
“I should be the one offended.” Trent speaks to me. “You still haven’t called me TK when it’s the very thing I only allow my nearest and dearest friends.” He raises his whiskey to me. “That’s you, Phoebe.”
“I’m touched,” I mutter.
“I bet,” Rocky interjects, outpacing Trent to reach me. My heart pitter-patters at his sudden closeness, and while I’m smushed against the green paisley wall, Rocky towers and presses a hand to the plaster, high over my head. He traps me with his build.
Hairs rise on my arms. The adrenaline rush—the static electricity of him—dizzies me.
I hear whispering from the bar.
No one tries to protect me from what looks like an uncomfortable situation between me and my ex-husband, but I am…really, really turned on. I cross my legs while my pussy thumps, still sore from the bathroom.
Rocky drops his head down to whisper against my ear. “He’s a little prick.”
I fight off a smile.
Yes, he is.
The bartender clears his throat as he attempts to slide me the Guinness. And Rocky pulls away from me, just to claim the sole barstool at my side.
Trent whistles lowly and takes a seat next to Rocky. “Grey, you are intense, man. Give the girl some space.”
“Long day, TK,” Rocky says with a heavy noise, like he’s blowing off steam.
Trent squeezes his shoulder. “Here, take mine.” He gives him the glass of whiskey, then asks the bartender for another.
Rocky subtly blocks Trent from ogling me. He’s hunched forward, arms on the wooden counter, taking strong sips of the amber liquor.
His quiet, simmering rage isn’t that hidden, but he has reason to be publicly upset. He just had a fight with me. Jake is dating me. I think it’d be worse if he had to conceal these real feelings, too.
I ease some.
And I wonder if it’s been harder on Rocky, not just because we’re truthfully together now, but maybe it’s also because I’m more myself in Victoria. This is my personality with my real, chosen name.
I’m not playing much of a character here.
The fakest thing about me are my ties to Jake.
“Don’t be upset with me, Phoebe,” Trent says, trying to capture my attention from behind Rocky.
“I’m not upset.” I lick beer froth off my lips and take out the envelope from the coat.
“I know you’re soft, though,” Trent says, elbow on the bar and head perched in his palm. “It’s Jake’s type. Soft girls. Little duckling types.” He walks two fingers across the bar counter toward me.
Rocky sets down his glass in Trent’s finger-walking path and acts oblivious to the move. Trent doesn’t notice his new BFF is actively cockblocking him.
I don’t give Trent the pleasure of a retort. His ego is the size of Mount Rainier, and after what happened in the Alps, I really couldn’t care less if he fell five hundred feet off a ski lift and broke every bone in his body.
I remember when we first met, he pulled me into an overly friendly hug and picked me up a foot off the ground to spin me around like we were seeing each other for the thousandth time and not meeting for the first.
He said, “Well if it isn’t my little brother’s skunky girlfriend. Jake’s told me absolutely nothing about you.” His blue eyes were soaked in charisma. “Gotta be honest, we were all shocked he’s even with someone. It’s been so long, Jordan and I were convinced he might have ED.”
First impressions were made, and I absolutely did not give him the benefit of the doubt. Not that I needed to.
He’s a tool. Among other things.
Rocky strikes up a friendly conversation with Trent that I eliminate myself from. I attempt to flag down the bartender again, but he’s busy chatting with a gray-haired woman in a Columbia puffer vest.