Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Why did I come down here?
Her hair is tied back in a high ponytail, flyaways around her face, with the apron covering her swimsuit-clad body. Thank God.
I glance through the clear basement doors, not seeing a soul watching TV or gaming. She’s alone, just the distant laughter of everyone playing and the music above.
“Are you hiding down here?” I tease.
“Yes.”
Why is she cooking? There’s plenty of food on the patio, and she worked all day.
But the thought creeps in… She knows I love her pizza. Maybe she’s making it for me?
She takes the pizza and turns, sliding it into the oven. Her back, bare except for the strings of the bikini top and apron stretches long and slender, looking soft.
And tight and smooth…
My body stirs, heat rising up my neck.
She wears red shorts over the bottoms.
Pulling out a finishing pizza, she rolls a cutter through it, slicing up eight pieces. Everything except mushrooms. My favorite.
She slides a piece onto a plastic plate and hands it to me. My stomach immediately growls. I’ve barely eaten today.
I pick up the scorching hot slice and take a quick bite. Sucking in air, I move it around my mouth so I don’t burn, but the cheese won’t break. It stretches eight inches from my mouth, and I laugh, pinching it off with my fingers.
I chew, the seasoning like a goddamn party on my tongue. “Shit,” I groan.
She leans her elbows on the counter, picking off a piece of pepperoni from one of the other seven slices and pops it into her mouth. “The cheese or the sauce?” she presses.
“Both.”
She grins. “I started putting a pinch of red pepper in the sauce.”
I take another bite despite my tongue being burned. “Don’t make this for either of those dipshits, okay?” I warn her. “I don’t want to wake up in Dubai to your wedding announcement.”
This would put any man in the palm of her hand.
But she doesn’t smile at the joke, just softly holds my eyes in a way that makes my heart stop for a moment.
I bite off another piece, then stuff another in my mouth.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
She shakes her head, chewing. “No.”
“Something good?” I inquire instead.
“Maybe.” She rises up. “But you seem to be on my brothers’ side lately, so I don’t know if I can trust you.”
She can trust me to want what’s best for her.
“Don’t you think they’ll find out anyway?” I ask, curious now.
“Sure,” she whispers. “They’ll find out after they can’t stop me.”
I square my shoulders. So she’s buying my house? Is that the secret? I should tell her not to, simply because it’s an expense she doesn’t need at her age, but I don’t. Not tonight. She’ll probably change her mind anyway.
I watch her lift a beer to her mouth, and for a moment, I freeze, entranced as her lips take the bottle.
She’s drinking. Alcohol.
Because of course she is. She’s twenty-one. A woman.
“Excited to go home?” she suddenly asks me.
I wet my lips, replying in a clipped voice. “Yeah.”
“Packed?”
I clear my throat. “I’ll leave for the airport around eight-thirty.”
I check my watch. My bags are in the car.
My heart pounds, a brick settling in my stomach.
She stares at me, and I force myself to hold her gaze.
“Do…do you have someone there?” she broaches quietly. “Someone who makes you happy?”
I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but she looks like she’s holding her breath.
“Sometimes.” The pain in my chest grows. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
I check my watch again, the seconds barely passing. The next two hours will be hard, but they’re going to be harder around her. I need to move. Talk to someone else.
“That smells fucking amazing,” a deep voice blurts out, coming downhill from the front of the house.
I turn my head, seeing Farrow Kelly in jeans and no shirt, carrying a motorcycle helmet.
Without missing a beat, he invades Quinn’s space behind the counter and wraps an arm around her waist, diving in and taking a bite off the slice she holds in her hand.
“Farrow Kelly,” she scolds as if they fucking grew up together.
“Stop,” he mumbles over the food in his mouth. “You know what ‘teacher voice’ does to me.”
I narrow my eyes, glaring, and I don’t care how it looks. What the fuck is going on?
Releasing her, he picks up the rest of the pizza—my pizza—and folds the whole damn thing in half, eating it like a taco.
She throws him a look, but he just shrugs. “You owe me,” he states, throwing me a sideways glance. “I had a bunch of shit to do today, and what did I end up doing? House hunting with—”
“Take the pizza,” she barks.
House hunting…
With Quinn? He went with her to my house?
Or…my parents’ house. Whatever. Why would she bring him?
Sweat dampens the back of my neck, my heart starting to thump against my chest.