Read Online Put a Ring On It by Beth Kendrick - Free Book Online

fact that my name isn’t Genevieve and I don’t wear thongs?”
    He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off by pressing her index finger to his lips. “It’s because I’m a normal person with a normal job and a normal life and you’re, like, some indolent rich guy who looks like he should have a British accent and a vast estate in Provence.”
    His lips twitched. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    â€œYou’re also clearly bored out of your mind.”
    â€œI assure you, I’m not bored right now.”
    â€œNo, I mean in general.
Ennui
: You have it.” She gave up searching for her shoe as she sank back in her seat and crossed her legs. “So don’t waste the whole night buying me drinks and being agreeable.
Do
something with me.” Her voice held a note of rebellion she hardly recognized. “I dare you. Do something with me that you’ve never done with anyone else.”
    He gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. “I’ve done a lot of things with a lot of women.”
    â€œI’m sure you have. Hence the ennui.” She circled the crystal of his disintegrating watch with her index finger. This time, he didn’t pull away. “Get creative. As long as we don’t end up in a cop car or the emergency room, I’m game.”
    An obviously drunk guy wearing a white baseball cap and the desperate miasma of an over-the-hill frat boy descended upon them.
    â€œJaaake,” he slurred. “Jake, my man, Jake Sorensen.”
    Jake acknowledged him with a nod and a tight half smile. “How are you, Buddy?”
    Buddy turned to Brighton with a leer. “Who’s your lady of the evening?”
    Her champagne buzz evaporated as she assembled all her social defenses. “Brighton Smith.” She tried to appear sober as she offered a handshake.
    Buddy blinked at her with bleary eyes. “That’s a weird name.”
    She and Jake exchanged a look. “So I’ve been told.”
    â€œYou look like you’re all business, honey.” Buddy’s breath smelled like the floor of a tavern. “Are you hooking up with this guy or taking a deposition?”
    â€œGood seeing you, Buddy.” Jake got to his feet and offered his hand to Brighton. “We’re on our way out.”
    â€œI bet you are.” Buddy practically fell over in his attempt to convey
wink-wink-nudge-nudge
solidarity. He recovered his balance, then warned Brighton, “Don’t get attached.”
    Brighton gave him a flat, cold stare.
    â€œThis guy isn’t relationship material.” Buddy slung one arm around Jake’s shoulder. “You and me, man. We’re alike.”
    Jake had to use both hands to extricate himself from the man-hug. “See you later.”
    â€œWe’re both
wounded
.” Buddy grabbed Jake’s shirtfront. “No one understands us.”
    Brighton stifled a laugh. Jake looked appalled.
    As Buddy rambled on, Brighton collected her bag and lost shoe. Jake finally escaped the existential frat boy’s clutches and hustled her out of the bar. “Sorry about that.”
    â€œNo need to apologize.” Brighton couldn’t help laughing at his obvious horror. “I understand. You secretly wounded man-whores have to stick together.”
    He scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “Buddy and I are not the same.”
    â€œWell, obviously not. You’re way better looking.”
    â€œThat’s true.”
    The note of challenge crept back into her voice. “Back to what I was saying. Defend your title as ‘designated rebound guy.’ What are you going to do for a type A corporate drone whose trusty, dependable fiancé just married some stranger with no warning?”
    Jake looked at Brighton. Brighton looked at Jake.
    â€œLet’s get married,” he suggested in the same tone he might use to ask if she wanted to grab