Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Then again, maybe she’d be too distracted by me to care what he was wearing.
Nerves were constant through the ride to his mom’s place.
But the long drive, which took well over an hour since it was on the opposite side of Dallas, was enough to have my nerves slightly under control again as we pulled up outside of the biggest house I’d ever seen.
“My god,” I said when he pulled to a stop and shut the bike off. “How much does a place like this cost?”
He grimaced and pulled his helmet off, staring up at the ostentatious house along with me.
“More than I make in ten years.” He chuckled. “Dad looked it up once out of curiosity at a family dinner with Scottie and my stepmom. He said the number, but at the time, money really wasn’t super important to me, so I only paid half attention.”
“I’m sad that I never got to meet your dad and stepmom,” I admitted.
“You would have adored them,” he acknowledged as he sighed, long and loud, then swung his leg over the bike to come to a stand next to me. “Let’s get this shit over with.” He paused and looked down into my eyes. “I want you to understand something.”
I blinked. “Okay.”
“My mom has this whole ‘poor, woe is me’ attitude. She’ll make you think like I kicked her puppy the entire night. But it’s all an act. She’s perfected it over the years, and swear to God, she’s really good at it. I’m telling you, with one hundred percent certainty, that she’s going to make you question me and my actions. She won’t outright show you how pissed she is that you’re here…but I’d watch your food. When she sets that plate down in front of you, pass it over to me, and I’ll pass it over to my stepsister.”
“You have a stepsister?” I asked as he helped me to my feet.
“Yep,” he confirmed. “And she’s like Switzerland. She’s on both sides, so she’ll let me switch with her, because my mom always forgets that my sister is a vegetarian, and she’ll refuse to eat the food. But it’s okay, because she eats before she comes.”
My lips tipped up at the edges as I said, “Let’s get this over with.”
He sighed. “I’m not sure I want to.”
I caught his hand and guided it to my helmet. “Get this off of me, or I’ll take it off myself.”
His hands came to either side of my helmet as he said, “Anyone touches this helmet, even you, there’ll be hell to pay.”
I wasn’t sure why he liked doing it so much, but honestly, it kind of made me feel precious. And I’d never been precious to anyone before, so I was going to live it up.
Eventually, he’d grow tired of me and leave—most men I’d casually dated had because of my living situation—but until then, I’d definitely protect him from his mother. I’d spend every second of my day with him. I’d hang out until he saw the light and eventually left.
He pulled the helmet reverently from my head, then kissed my hair before depositing both his and my helmet onto the bike.
“One time,” he said as he reached for my hand, “my mom tried to have my bike towed. The guy gets here, then sees whose bike he would be towing, and refused to take it. He came up to the front door and apologized, then asked for some money to compensate him coming all the way out here for nothing—she was hoping by calling a farther away towing company that they’d get it, no questions asked. I gave him a fat tip, then laid into my mother. From that point on, I promised to stay the hell away from her.”
“She sounds lovely,” I teased.
“She’s not,” he grumbled as he tugged me toward the door. “Good luck.”
I had a feeling I was going to need it.
Twenty-Seven
I don’t know how to act around warm bread.
—Posy’s secret thoughts
POSY
“Hey, darling.” My mother’s sugary sweet voice filled the air as she pulled open the front door. “I’ve missed…”
She took in my appearance, and her eyes went angry and hot.
She hid it well, though.
My mother, who was a little over five-foot-two, couldn’t overpower me—and never really could. But she could hold a mean grudge, and her payback was creative.
“What are you…” she started again, then she saw the hand linked in my own, and her mouth went tight as she trailed off mid-sentence.
I’d thrown her for a loop.
She hadn’t expected me to bring a date, and she hadn’t expected me to show up looking like I did.
I inwardly grinned, because I knew if I’d done it outwardly, she’d lose her shit.
At least with people here—she had a full driveway of luxurious cars—she couldn’t cause the scene I knew she wanted to cause.