Page 87 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
16: DO WHAT WITH A THREESOME SWING?!
HART
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I HEARD HER laughter first.
Her real laugh.
It drew me to the curtain like a moth to a flame.
What I hadn’t expected was to find Bronx standing beside her. I hadn’t expected to see her hand on his arm as she listened to whatever he’s telling her. And especially not in the place I thought was ours to explore together—or had been.
Fuck, we’d snuck in once, when we were way too fucking young. And our past selves don’t own this spot.
I sure as hell never planned to come back, but Levi stuck me with a box full of something to drop off here from the birthday party Hope hosted for Jade. A box that buzzed the entire ride, and I refused to open it.
So here I am. And here she is, too—and Bronx. Please tell me this is one of his outlandish pranks.
The desire to shove him into that wall of dildos and choke him with one—and not in a kinky way—hits me hard.
Bronx sees me and raises his brows. “Well, now, I don’t ever recall seeing this guy in here before.”
My stomach drops at the look that flashes over her face when her eyes meet mine. The air between us crackles with unspoken tension, and a silent battle is waging in glances and tightened jaws.
What exactly are they doing here?
Together?
Is it what I think it is?
Is she following through with finishing the bucket list withhim?
I don’t think I really have to ask. The answer looks pretty fucking clear.
“Here for a little something to spice up your night?” Bronx steps closer, his cologne, a cloying mix of musk and hay, ambushes my nostrils.
“I’m here to drop a box off to Charli.”
“Sure you are,” Bronx smirks.
“Levi sent me.”
“Sure he did.” His smirk widens. “Nice shiner, by the way.”
He’s really making it difficult not to shove him into that colorful wall.
There is no damn shiner. At least not one he can see. I’m pretty convinced my jaw is bruised under my scruff.
“C’mon, now, don’t be shy with us.” Bronx’s elbow hits my arm, and it takes all my strength not to grab him and slam his face into my knee.
Or kinda whack it back and forth on the dildo wall like a whack-a-mole.
“You’ve got a rep.” He doesn’t hide the excitement of thinking the rumors are true, that I’mthatguy. “So what is it? VIP status? Free batteries for life?”
My jaw tightens.
“Tell us, how do you fill your tickle trunk without stepping foot in here?”
