“I have no fucking idea what I’m gonna do about any of it.”
Just then, Nat lifted her gaze and connected it with his, and even through the distance between them, that stare shot straight to his cock.
Nash whistled low under his breath, obviously seeing the interaction. “Shit, man. All I know is, if Rory looked at me like that, we’d already be on our way home.”
The only problem was, home held more questions than answers, and now those questions were topped with a heaping desire to rip each other’s clothes off.
After the last guest had left, Nat and Asher, along with her sisters and their guys, sat around a table under the largest tent, thankful the Haven estate was vast enough that the neighbors wouldn’t complain about the noise.
Gran had insisted on taking June and Owen for the night—to give Nat and Asher an evening of privacy, she’d said with a wink. And despite not needing an evening alone for the reason her grandma had insinuated, Nat would still take it, considering the long-ass day they’d had sprung on them.
She sat next to Asher, her feet resting in his lap as he ran his thumb over the arch. She’d had no idea just how much she needed the impromptu foot massage. Or how much the act would make her tingle in places that most definitely were not just where he was touching her.
It had taken a shit-ton of liquor to get Mac speaking more than a couple words to her again, which meant they were all well on the other side of tipsy. It also meant their conversation was slowly drifting into the gutter, somehow naturally transitioning from Havenbrook gossip into sexual stereotypes and their validity.
“I just wanna know who started the rumor that big feet equal a big dick?” Nat said, her who-knew-how-many drink of the night warming her veins and loosening her lips. “Because I canpromiseyou, that’s not always true.”
“Excuse you,” Nash said, lifting up one gigantic foot as if that were evidence enough.
She threw out her hands toward him in exasperation. “That doesn’t prove anything. That’s exactly what I’m sayin’! A man had to have started it, because what? Every woman should just go up to a guy with big feet and say, ‘Whip it out and let me measure’?”
“C’mon, princess,” Nash said to Rory. “Back me up here.”
Rory poured the last of the wine bottle she’d mostly polished off on her own into her glass and sat back with a huff. “If you think I’m gonna spill about how huge your penis is just because you can’t stand for people to think otherwise, well—”
“Well, you just did, genius,” Mac said with a chuckle from her perch on Hudson’s lap.
Rory opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, before snapping it shut again, her cheeks flushing. She cleared her throat and brushed aside a stray piece of hair. “Oh, shut up. Nat, give us another one so everyone stops lookin’ at me.”
Nat snorted. “Okay, how about the stereotype that all uptight women are lousy lays because they can’t let loose in bed?”
“That—” Nash started before Rory elbowed him in the gut.
“Don’t you dare say a word.”
“I was only gonna defend you. You’renota lousy lay.”
“Oh, but I am uptight?”
Mac snorted. “That’s not exactly news, Rory.”
“You shut up, unless you wanna have some stereotypes thrown your way.”
With a shrug, Mac said, “Wouldn’t bother me if you did.”
“Okay, fine.” Rory sat up straighter, her eyes narrowed as she stared at Mac. “I suppose you both just…always have sex outside?”
“Actually, that’s not really a generalized stereotype so much as it’s a very specific assumption,” Will said, brows raised.
“What are you, the word police?” Nat said. “Finn, get your woman a drink. She’s makin’ too much sense.”
“If only she wasn’t bein’ DD for y’all. Because the more she drinks, the higher my chance of gettin’ lai—”
Will slapped a hand over his mouth. “Not if you keep talkin’, it won’t be.”
“Well?” Rory asked.
Mac furrowed her brow. “Well, what?”
