Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Probably. Maybe.
“I should catch him before he goes and explain.” Whit starts for the door.
I grip his arm. “Whit …”
He slumps. “He was already gone, wasn’t he?”
It must be written all over my face. “I’m sorry.”
He groans. “I’m going to be a virgin forever.”
“That’s a lot dramatic. Come on. I’ll buy you a drink at V and V.”
“So you can watch me make a fool of myself again? I’ll pass.”
“No, because I get a staff discount on drinks, and it’s all I can afford. I’ll help you in your quest to lose your virginity.”
Whit blinks at me.
Then I replay my words in my head. “By finding you a guy. Not personally. Geez.”
“Damn. Still straight, then?” He smirks.
“Last time I checked.”
“Need a hand checking again? Because I volunteer as tribute.”
Words are just words. They’re meaningless. They hold even less significance in the form of a joke. But for a split, miniscule second, my mind drifts to what taking Whit up on that offer would look like.
Despite the tiny interest, I easily dismiss it as fascination. Reading those books at the store might have piqued my curiosity, but not any more than stumbling upon some hard-core bondage porn one day. I watched it. It intrigued me. But that’s all. I’m not going out to buy rope and handcuffs anytime soon.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say dismissively. “Let’s get that drink.”
Whit smiles. “You know what this means, right?”
“What?”
“You agreed to be my wingman. Rainn Richardson is my wingman.”
I snort. “I don’t think that’s something to brag about. ‘Gay virgin recruits straight man to get him laid.’ Sounds like the butt of a joke.”
“I like butts.”
“Of course you do.” I don’t even know why, but my gaze lowers to Whit’s ass as he walks in front of me.
Ah, hockey butt. I miss mine.
My ass used to be my best feature. Now I’m just an ass in general.
6
Whit
“Okay, take me to where all the boys are at.” My excitement might be hiding the irrational embarrassment of stepping inside Vino and Veritas again.
Hockey players are supposed to have game. Apparently gay hockey players have none. I’m basing this completely on my own singular experience and applying it as a huge generalization.
On the ice, I’m fast and smooth. My moves are as natural as working on the farm. My moves on members of the same sex? They’re nonexistent.
Walking through the doors, we’re met with a practically empty bar. That’s good, because there are fewer people to witness the awesome talent I have of making every single person here uncomfortable.
“Welcome to Sunday nights when there’s no open mic night,” Rainn says as he rounds the bar. “Hey, Tanner, I thought you had the night off.”
The man shakes his head. “Ned called in sick again.”
“You could’ve called me.”
“I knew you had a date, and I was told making you cancel would be mean.”
Rainn grins. “Jax told you that, I’m guessing.” He turns to me. “Jax is the only reason Tanner doesn’t grunt one-word answers to everything anymore.”
Tanner grunts, and Rainn laughs.
“You should’ve called. Date was a bust,” Rainn says.
Tanner leans against the bar. “Do you want to take over Ned’s shifts? Because I’m this close to letting him go. It’s one thing if you’re like Molly, who has no idea what she’s doing half the time, but at least she tries. Ned … He stopped trying a while ago. The only reason I’ve kept him on after all this time is not wanting to go through the pain of finding someone else.”
Rainn responds even before his boss stops talking. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Is Harrison going to be okay with that? You might have to cut back hours in the bookstore.”
“He told me to ask you for more hours when I complained to him last week about needing money.”
“Consider it done. You’ll start taking on extra shifts next week.” With that, the boss turns around and gets back to work.
Rainn doesn’t ask me what I want—he just grabs us both Shipley Ciders and leads me to a booth. He reads the bottle’s label after we sit down. “This is made in Tuxbury.”
“I know. I’m in a lot of the same classes as Dylan Shipley.”
“Oh, cool. I’ve never actually had their cider before.”
“You’re missing out.” The drink goes down smoothly.
Rainn takes a sip, and I can’t help watching his throat work around the liquid. I sigh because that’s sexier than it should be. Not only because he’s doing a simple human action that shouldn’t turn me on so much, but because I’m drooling over someone I could never have. I should stop that.
“What’s your major?” Rainn asks, and I get the feeling he’s making small talk to get me to stop staring at him like a weirdo. “Oh, wait, let me guess. Agriculture. You came in for that book a few weeks ago. Fundamentals of … economical farming … things.”