Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I sit primly with my hands in my lap as Josh moves around the back of the car and opens my door.
“Thank you, sir,” I say as Josh helps me out of the car and escorts me toward my parents’ front door. “Glenfarclas 1955,” I say, reading the label on the box of Scotch in my hand. “I know nothing about Scotch. Is that a good one? ”
Josh lets out a little puff of air. “Yeah.”
I stop short. That little air-puff raised the hair on the nape of my neck. “Hang on,” I say.
Josh stops. “What?”
“How good?” I ask.
“How good what?”
“How good a bottle of Scotch is this?”
“Good. You said your dad loves Scotch, so I got him something I was sure he’d really like.”
“Oh, jeez.”
“What?”
“Josh. Honey. Your idea of a ‘good’ Scotch is gonna be different than the average person’s.”
Josh looks at me blankly.
“Josh, how much did this bottle of Scotch cost?”
He opens his mouth and closes it.
“Josh?”
“It cost me nothing. My uncle gave it to me from his private collection.”
“Your uncle . . ? Oh, shit. Josh, what’s it worth?”
Josh winces. “Well, okay, it’s a little on the extravagant side, I’ll admit that—but not too bad. Not, like, crazy. I just wanted to be sure it’d be something your dad would really like.”
“How much is a little extravagant, honey? Gimme a number.”
“Don’t forget this is a special occasion. I’ll never again meet your parents for the first time. I just wanted to make a good impression.”
My heart’s racing. “Josh, you’re freaking me out. How much is it worth?”
“Eight.”
I inhale sharply. “Eight hundred dollars?”
Josh looks as guilty as sin.
“Eight hundred bucks for a bottle of Scotch?” I ask again slowly, incredulous.
Josh doesn’t reply, but he looks like he just confessed to murder.
“Josh, you can’t give my father an eight-hundred-dollar bottle of Scotch—especially not the first time you meet him.”
Josh grimaces.
“It was such a sweet thought, honey, but you’re gonna freak him out and make him think you’re some sort of eccentric tycoon or something—like, who’s that hermit-guy with airplanes?”
“Howard Hughes.”
“Yes. My dad’s gonna think you’re Howard Hughes—or, worse, he’s gonna think you’re trying to buy his affection.”
Josh winces like I’ve punched him in the stomach. “Shit. I just wanted to give your dad something he’d really, really like.”
“I know, babe, but it’s too extravagant. I’m sorry.”
Josh exhales. “Well, shit.” He looks crestfallen. “If an eight-hundred-dollar bottle of Scotch is too extravagant to give your dad, then I really screwed the pooch here.”
I pause, processing what Josh is trying to say. “It’s not an eight-hundred-dollar bottle?” I ask.
Josh shakes his head.
“Oh, Josh,” I say gasping. “Eight thousand?”
He nods. “I called my uncle to ask for a recommendation and he insisted on sending me a bottle of the good stuff from his private collection.”
“Oh my God. Josh. If my dad knew how much that bottle was worth, he’d never open it. He’d sell it and finally take my mom to Hawaii, instead.”
Josh’s face lights up. “Your parents have never been to Hawaii? What about your brothers? Do you think they’d like to go, too?”
“Josh, focus. You’re not taking the entire Morgan clan to Hawaii. We’re talking about Scotch.”
Josh laughs. “You read my mind.”
“I know I did.”
“It’d be fun, though, wouldn’t it?”
I laugh. “You’re crazy.”
“I know I am. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.”
“Oh, it’d definitely be fun,” I say.
“Maybe after Colby’s feeling better and the baby’s born we could take a big family trip to celebrate both?”
I smile. This is the first time I’ve heard Josh make future plans. “Maybe.” I bite my lip, my heart bursting. “That would be incredible.”
“Then we’ll do it. It’s a plan.”
“I love you, Josh.”
I’ve never seen Josh smile quite so big. “God, I love it when you say that,” he says. “I love you, too.”
My entire body’s tingling. “Well, you’ve artfully distracted me, my darling Playboy. I was telling you to put the Scotch in the car.”
Josh’s facial expression morphs from elation to disappointment. “I’d hate to meet your dad empty-handed.”
“You’re not empty-handed, babe—you’ve got pie and wine and flowers. That’s plenty. Maybe you can give my Dad an eight-thousand-dollar bottle of Scotch to celebrate him becoming a grandfather when the baby comes. You know, once he already loves you and knows you’re not a hermit-tycoon-weirdo.”
Josh’s shoulders droop. “Okay.”
I hand Josh the Scotch and he hands me the wine bottle to hold in return. “I’ll be right back,” he says, turning around and heading toward the car.
“Hang on,” I say, the hair on my neck standing up again.
Josh stops and looks at me expectantly.
“What about this, Playboy?” I ask, holding up the wine bottle.
Josh waves me off. “Oh, that’s just, you know, a Cabernet.”
“Mmm hmm. Just a Cabernet?”
“Yep.”
He’s not fooling me for a minute—he looks guilty as hell. “Like, you mean the kind of Cabernet someone could pick up at Whole Foods for twenty bucks?” I ask. “Or, maybe if they really wanna splurge, for like, fifty?”