Huddy down,” Milo suggests.
“Fucking hell!”
“Let’s just do this without him, Cap,” Theo says. “I’m not about to go barging into his house and wake up a sleeping baby. My mom taught me better than that shit.”
I heave a sigh and grab my book. “Fine. Do any of you at least have anything helpful to suggest we look at?”
Kline raises his hand, ever the rule-follower. “I bookmarked the first real wooing.”
“Wooing?”
“Wooing,” he confirms.
“Do I even know what that is? Is it some kind of sex?”
He rolls his eyes. “He’s romancing her, Cap. Jesus. In order to win a woman, you have to woo her. Romance her. Help her experience the things she’s always wanted to but doesn’t even know.”
“I’m supposed to know shit even she doesn’t know? What in the hell sense does that make?”
“Women give clues,” Wes explains. “Surely after all these years of sleeping with a million of them, you’d understand that.”
“The only clues women give me are getting naked, sucking my dick, and climbing on top to take me for a ride.”
“Good God,” Theo mutters. “It’s safe to say writing love letters is out of the question for you.”
“Look, I’ve never had to try this hard to…”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say sleep with someone, but as far as these fuckers are concerned, I’m after a whole lot more. If I want their help, I’m going to have to keep up the charade.
“Pursue someone.”
“That’s because you’ve never been with this caliber of woman. I haven’t met her, but just the fact that she’s kept her panties on this long means something.”
I scowl. I don’t really like the idea of Harrison talking about Ruby’s panties.
“Hey, asshole,” I say. “Keep it classy.”
For some reason, Kline, Thatch, Wes, Trent, and Milo all exchange looks. I don’t know what they mean, and I don’t have time to figure it out. The timetable of this pursuit is long enough without their bullshit.
“What page is this Wu-Tang shit you’re talking about, Kline?”
He laughs. “Wooing. Not Wu-Tang.”
I shrug. “Whatever. What page?”
“111.”
I flip to the page in Hanging on a Hero and start skimming the text. They’re on their way to the hero Smith’s firefighter’s ball. But apparently, the heroine, Vivian, doesn’t know it.
“Where are we?” Vivian asks, looking around the room at the hotel I’ve had set up just for her.
A rack of dresses lines one wall, and a chair with a lighted mirror sits in the corner. A hair and makeup artist is just waiting to be called in after the surprise.
“I know you worry about making the right impression, Viv. You’re beautiful to me, always, but I wanted you, tonight, to feel beautiful to you.”
“Smith,” she whispers. “You did all of this for me?”
I nod. “You can pick any dress you want. And Jasmine from the Spa Seville is just waiting to pamper you.”
“Pamper me?”
“She’s going to do your hair and makeup. Just how you want it.”
A tear settles into the corner of Vivian’s eye.
“And when you’re ready, I’m going to walk into that ball tonight, knowing I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the world on my arm—inside and out.”
“One day, motherfluffers, this book club is gonna read a motherfluffing rom-com,” Thatch says as he tucks his sniffling face behind his arm.
“For the love of God,” Wes says, sighing heavily as he shoves back in his chair.
“Is it just me, or is he getting weepier with age?” Harrison stage-whispers, and everyone else laughs.
I smooth a hand through my hair and shake my head. “He’s always been a sensitive bastard. Two years ago, I negotiated a contract for him with two of the biggest players on the stock exchange, and he sent me Edible Arrangements for a month.”
“No flowers from your dick for Cap?” Wes teases, and Thatch gives him the finger.
“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, asshole.”
“That’s great. Really helpful information, guys. But I’m pursuing a woman. Do you think we can focus on that for a minute and a half? Maybe even two?”
Trent sighs and leans back in his chair. “Well, in this, he’s making her feel special before taking her to the firefighter’s ball. What have you got that you can take—” He pauses for a second, purses his lips, and then shakes his head slightly. “You know, I don’t even know that I know her name.”
Kline smirks. “It’s Ruby.”
My eyebrows come together so fast, I’d imagine they’re shaped somewhat like an inchworm, with a hump in the center.
“How do you know that?”
Thatch