Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I chuckle.
Even though I nudged this crash-and-burn along, he’s right. Daisy is a serial dater. She has a habit of flitting from one guy to the next like a bee in a field of wildflowers, getting into relationships that fizzle out after a few weeks. It’s amusing to watch from the sidelines. But the last thing I want is to see her get involved in something serious.
That would probably kill me.
I drag a hand over my face, needing to purge thoughts of Daisy Thompson from my brain once and for all. Getting laid would probably do the trick.
For a while.
Luckily, there’s more than enough options at this party for me to choose from.
I make eye contact, flash a smile, and a girl moves in my direction. I don’t realize until it’s too late that she’s a dead ringer for Daisy, with the same hair color and curvy figure.
The semi I’ve been rocking turns into the full-fledged deal just thinking about banging Daisy.
Fuck my life.
3
DAISY
“Hi, Aunt Marnie!” I call out while coming through the front door with Noah and Carter hot on my heels.
Noah’s mother, Aunt Marnie, stands at the huge black granite island in the center of the kitchen. She’s wearing a pretty sundress, with her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. It’s her go-to hairstyle. Easy and low maintenance, just like her.
A warm smile lights up her face as she glances up. “Hey, sweetheart!” With a big wooden spoon in hand, she mixes together a macaroni salad for the Labor Day barbecue she and my uncle are hosting. Everyone in the neighborhood is invited, as well as all of Noah and Carter’s teammates, who turn up en masse.
Since they have a kick-ass in-ground pool, there’s always an abundance of man candy to gawk at. It’s probably one of the only perks to having a cousin who plays in a Division I football program. These guys work out all year long like it’s their job and have the buff bodies to prove it.
Carter bumps into me, muttering something about slowpokes under his breath that makes me bristle in irritation. I’d normally hit back with an equally disparaging remark, but I’m not on speaking terms with him because I’m still pissed that he ruined my date with Logan.
I try not to think about the other night too much because when I do, images of Carter wearing nothing but a pair of tight briefs that hug his sculpted torso dance through my head. It kills me to admit that he has a stunning body. All of his perfectly chiseled muscles pop out in sharp relief whenever he moves.
As someone who’s into art and enjoys drawing, I can totally appreciate his…form.
I shove that thought from my head before I start drooling.
Simply stepping foot into this house is enough to calm my jacked-up nerves. It’s home to me more so than my own ever was. I have so many fond memories of pulling up a stool and pouring my heart out to Aunt Marnie while she prepped dinner at the end of the day. Any problem I was struggling with could always be shared with her.
I’m lucky that Noah’s parents opened their home to me after my parents divorced when I was fourteen years old. It happened during the summer right before freshman year of high school. No one was shocked when my parents decided to call it quits. Everyone who knew them saw it coming like a train collision in slow motion. I think the only reason Mom and Dad hung on for as long as they did was because of me. Divorce sucks, but in some regard, it was a big relief for all of us. There were no more bouts of screaming and yelling interlaced with uncomfortable stretches of silence that lasted for days.
As soon as the decision was made, their marriage came down like a house of cards. Within months, the paperwork was signed, and my dad uprooted his life and took off for Texas. He’s still there seven years later. Only now he’s married, with two kids who are my half-siblings. I’ve only met them a handful of times, so it’s hard to consider them family. The few times I flew out for visits felt awkward, like I was staying with strangers. The last time, I changed my ticket and came back a week early. I haven’t been there since. Every couple of months, Dad and I talk on the phone. Sometimes we’ll shoot texts back and forth, but the closeness we once shared is long gone.
And my mother…I’m not sure how to describe her other than to say that she’s currently on her fourth marriage and galivanting around Europe. Frederique, her husband, has estates across the world, so I never know from one week to the next where they are.