RacingQueen: I’ll make you a deal. I’ll read your pick if you try one of mine?
His icon flashes a few times, then disappears.
Did I push too far?
TheBigO: Okay. But I’m gonna test you to make sure you really read it.
I’m no liar.
Yet his little kernel of doubt sets my teeth on edge. I’ll ace every question.
Just to prove it to him.
RacingQueen: You know that’s gonna work both ways now, right?
TheBigO: I figured.
I need to find the raunchiest book to send to him.
Shit, I’ll probably be giving some old man a heart attack.
RacingQueen: Bring it on. Send me the title.
When the private message from him pops up with the direct link for an espionage series, I roll my eyes.
I’m determined to absorb every detail of this new story.
So I guess the plan worked? It doesn’t take long before I’m sucked into the world of spies and intrigue.
And for at least tonight, I forget where I am.
Can't get any worse
Oliver
All of the lineson this set of plans start to squiggle in my vision.
Pushing it away, I rub my temples in a failing attempt to get rid of this headache.
The kitchen is a mess, I need to go grocery shopping, and it’s too damn late to drive up to the bar for a burger.
Beer it is.
Again.
Hell, there’s no difference between being married and being divorced. I’ve been having to fend for myself for the last few years.
I always thought it was because Paige was working late.
Now I know better. She was just out fucking her way across Montana.
It would be a blow to my ego if I could honestly say I didn’t expect it.
But she cheated on a guy to be with me. Then convinced me she was pregnant to get me to marry her.
Everything with her was a lie.
Never again.
