Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)

by Meghan Quinn

My brows raise in surprise before I lean forward on the table. “Perfect, huh?” I waggle my eyebrows, which only causes her to shake her head at me. “Tell me more about that.” “You’re perfect, Eli, but you could afford to learn how not to snore at night.” I sit taller, appalled. “I do not fucking snore.” And once again, with a grin on her face, she just shrugs her shoulders and continues to eat her cinnamon bun. What-the-fuck-ever . . . I do not snore.

She laughs some more, and between her giggles, she says, “I was . . . kidding, Eli. You don’t snore.” “What?” I say, lifting to a sitting position on the bed. “You were fucking kidding?” “Yes.” She laugh-cries some more, her handle on the humor slipping further and further as she attempts to gather herself, but it’s not working. I snag my phone from the nightstand and shoot a quick text to Taters. Eli: You fucker! I bought Breathe Right strips. I rip the strip off my nose and toss it to the ground as my eyes water from the pull of the adhesive just as my phone dings with a response. While Penny continues to laugh, I read the message. Taters: HAHAHAHAHA. Oh fuck, that made my night. Eli: Go fuck yourself.