Page 14 of Honeymoon Phase
She begins sharing her animated tales of proposing to Bullhead and Chuck the past few weeks, but I barely hear her. I begin cataloging every woman I’ve ever slept with and wondering how I was able to win them over so easily. The nice guy thing has always just kind of worked for me, but Roe seems completely oblivious to my charms.
Was it having my brothers as wingmen that helped? Do I not have game? Surely I’ve hooked up with women without them being in the room.
Right?
Fuck.
Is that what I’ve been missing with Roe? I need a wingman?
I polish off the last of my beer and stare at my plate, realizing I’ve stress-eaten two bowls of jambalaya and at least four slices of Roe’s homemade sourdough. Normally I wax lyrical about how her bread is so life-changing, but my taste buds still don’t seem to be firing at all cylinders.
I’m a mess.
“I bagged up a loaf for you to take home,” Roe says, cutting into my mental freak-out.
I turn my head and find her smiling softly at me, and I swear that smile makes me feel like I’m the only man in the world. Why does she do that? Why does she look at me like that? It fucks with my head, and it makes me want to shove that bread off the counter, spread her legs wide and devour every square inch of her instead. At least until she forgets any lumberjacks who ever touched her.
I’m positive Addison Monroe tastes better than bread.
I bet her lumberjacks aren’t “grateful” for her bread like Iam. They probably don’t even eat it. They probably eat bark and nuts and live game they kill after they’ve fucked it because they’re so desperate for sex out there in the woods, they’d fuck anything.
They could fuck and kill Roe too.
They have access to a plethora of sharp objects and all the skill sets required to cut up a body into small enough pieces that no one could ever identify it.
Jesus I’m getting dark.
I’m buried so deep in my thoughts that I don’t even realize I’ve said my next sentence out loud until Roe asks, “What was that?”
I blink to find we’re standing side by side at the sink washing dishes. I don’t even remember walking over here, but my hands are currently wrist deep in soapy water.
Licking my lips, I repeat what I just said while staring at my hands, “Marry me.”
“Not this again.” She elbows me and the warmth of her skin on mine causes a riot of goose bumps to move up my arm.
“I’m serious this time.” I turn to stare at her, grabbing a towel to wipe my hands dry. I’ve aborted my mission of trying to get my friend to fall in love with me. Now I’m simply trying to prevent her from getting murdered or raped or assaulted.
Fuck.
I’m losing it. I’m going off the rails here and need her to say yes to this or I don’t know what I’ll do.
She frowns up at me, her long dark lashes fanning her cheeks as she blinks rapidly. I chuck the towel to the counter and reach into my pocket to pull out the list that Everly doctored up for me. It’s crumpled and I feel like a seventh grader passing a note to a cute girl in class just like I did with the stupid letter I gave her, but fuck it, it’s now or never.
My best friend’s life is at stake.
A nonappreciative-for-Roe’s-bread lumberjack, with all the necessary skills to dismember a body, could be the one she chooses... and he could then kill her, hide the bits of her body anywhere, and then—
“Luke, what’s going—”
“I’ve thought this through,” I murmur and as she begins to unfold the paper, I feel sweat collecting on the back of my neck. “I’ll be outside. Let me know when you’re ready to discuss.”
Chapter 5
Fact or Fiction?
Best friends make good husbands.
Addison
