Cruel Summer by Morgan Elizabeth EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Morgan Elizabeth
- Language: English
- Genre: Men, Women & Relationships Humor
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
TUESDAY, MAY 16
CAMI
This is a terrible, terrible idea.
I’m doing it anyway, but I would like the record to show taking shots
with your best friends the day before you start a new job is definitely not a
good idea.
“To Cami’s new job!” Abbie shouts with a smile, her blonde hair
moving and reflecting the low light of the dive bar.
“To Cami!” Kat says before all three of us down our shots, and Kat and
I shove a lime into our mouths instantly. Abbie makes a face akin to
someone who is moments away from heaving before chugging the sweetest
juice (pineapple) she could get from the bartender.
“Dear god, that was horrific,” she says, the same way she always does
when she encounters hard liquor.
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“Yeah, but it makes you all warm and tingly, and that’s the best part,”
Kat says, then she gives a little shimmy attracting every eye in the bar,
including the cute bartender who has been nearby since we walked in. He
leans on the bar in front of us with a smile, like he finds us entertaining.
He’s got a good smile. I tracked him from a mile away—his light-brown
hair cut short, the muscular build and wide shoulders stretching the black
staff tee shirt he wears, and most importantly, the dimples he keeps showing
us with each smile.
The man has dimples.
“Need anything?” he asks, his smile growing, the dimples deepening.
He’s definitely smiling at Kat, my gorgeous best friend with all of her
curves and beautiful dark hair and perfectly tanned skin.
“French fries!” Abbie says.
“French fries, got it. What about for you?” he asks, tipping his head to
me.
“What about me?”
“What can I get you?” He has nice eyes, too. Hazel with flecks of gold,
laugh lines at the edges.
“Oh. Nothing, I’m good.”
“Nothing? You should eat something,” he says, clearly trying to up our
tab for the night.
“We’ll tip you well either way, I promise,” I say, and his smile comes
out again.
“Not worried about a tip, angel. Worried about the fact you’ve had three
shots in thirty minutes. You need something to sop it all up.”
“Angel?” I ask with a glare. A bartender assigning drunk women pet
names is a major ick.
“Must have hurt when you fell from heaven.”
My mouth drops open with shock and a healthy mix of indignation and,
though I’ll never admit it, admiration
“Did you really just say that?” He laughs a bit, standing straight and
wiping the bartop in front of him.
“Yeah. Dad jokes and cheesy pickup lines are kind of my thing,”
“Oh my god, I think I love him,” Abbie says, the cartoon-like hearts in
her eyes nearly visible.
“Right?” Kat, the hopeless romantic of the group, says.
“Does that actually work?” I ask at his egregious attempt at humor.
“Honestly?” he asks, those dimples coming out again. “No, but I
normally save the jokes for my daughter who always gives me a pity
laugh.”
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