“Uh-huh. Do I get to be your best man?” “Do I look like a wedding kind of guy to you?” “Don’t tell me you’re going to string that poor, smoking-hot angel along. There are millions of men who’d snatch that right out from under you in a heartbeat. Wouldn’t even care if your dick was still wet.” My blood pressure rises. “You, my friend, are about five seconds away from needing to run.”
