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She held up her hand. “It might have been okay if his cat wasn’t named after his mom.”
“Wait, what?” Winter asked with a giggle. “He named his cat after his mother?”
“Martha. Isn’t that fucking weird?” She nodded, trying not to laugh. “Half the time I didn’t know which one he was talking about, which was not only confusing but also super creepy. By the end of the date, I stopped asking for clarification. I just wanted to pay the check and leave.”
“Yikes.”
“Oh, and he wore socks with sandals.” Jazz shook her head. “I’m pretty sure he’s a serial killer.”
Winter snickered. “Okay, the Martha thing is weird, but he couldn’t bethatbad.”
“Believe me,” she insisted firmly, “hewasthat bad. He might not have planned to wear my skin as a dress, but he was a hard pass before the Martha thing even came up.”
“Since when has socks with sandals ever been a dealbreaker?” her best friend asked between giggles. “Maybe he just doesn’t know any better.”
“The socks weren’t the dealbreaker,” she argued. She had gauged her decision off more than a bad fashion choice. She might have been able to give Paul another shot if it hadonlybeen the socks making her twitch. “They weren’t even the tip of the dealbreaker iceberg.”
“Really?”
“Really,” she promised with a solemn nod.
“If it wasn’t the Marthas or the socks, what was it?” Winter’s eyes narrowed, obviously not believing her. “And it better be good.”
Jazz cleared her throat. “Paul doesn’t eat tacos,” she said slowly.
“He doesn’t eat tacos?” Winter repeated, her brows raised in question.
“Yup,” Jazz answered with a slow nod. “No tacos at all. He thinks they’re too messy.”
The women shared a look.
“He probably doesn’t eat the other type of taco then either,” Winter said, coming to the exact same conclusion Jazz had within five minutes of meeting her date at Medina’s.
“Like I said. Hard pass.”
Chapter 3
“Why do they all have to be so pretty?” Jazz asked, blinking a few times to clear her vision. She couldn’t keep herself from staring, not when there were so many hunks roaming around.
Almost all the groomsmen were firefighters that worked at the same station as Winter’s fiancé—and most of them were ridiculously hot. It was one of the reasons why she never complained when the guys happened to crash their ladies’ nights. With their tattoos, cycles, and overwhelming testosterone, her ovaries couldn’t help but take notice whenever they were around.
“I need to get laid,” Jazz admitted quietly.
“I’ve been telling you that ever since you bought us matching vibrators,” Winter snorted, referring to the last Christmas present that Jazz had bought her former roomie.
“They were on sale,” she snapped, prepared to argue again how the savings outweighed the awkwardness when it came down to it. Sex toys were fucking expensive and while she was prepared to pay full price for her orgasms, she wasn’t going to let a deal pass her by.
“You always say—” Winter started but stopped abruptly when a muscled arm was tossed across her shoulders.
“Hello, ladies.”
Startled at the abrupt interruption, Jazz could only stare at the man butting in. The voice seemed familiar for some reason.
“Leo!” Winter turned and hugged the new arrival. Swinging back toward Jazz, she smiled big. “Jazz this is Leo, Will’s best man.”
“Nice to meet you…” Her voice trailed off as she stared up at him. Face to face with him, she lost every thought in her head but one.
Leo was fucking hot.
