Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Not that it needed fixing.
“Mine’s moved about six times in the past five years,” she continues. “I never went to the same school two years in a row growing up. Sometimes I had to go live with Mama June, that was my grandma, because Mom was too consumed by the latest boyfriend to remember that I existed.”
I sip my water, listening as Britney brushes on some mascara.
“When Mark and I got married, Mom saw dollar signs. Because professional player, right?” She rolls her eyes. Britney is tall, willowy like a ballerina, with big brown eyes and dark hair that hits just below her shoulders. She’s in jeans and a Flurry T-shirt. “But we got married during his rookie season in Chicago, and they didn’t offer him millions. It’s only been in the past five years, since he won his first Cup with Tampa Bay and moved to Denver, that we’ve seen a big amount of money. Not that I’d ever be okay with my man giving a dime to that woman because she’s horrible.”
I take a breath and another sip, then set the glass down.
“You didn’t have to come in here.”
“I know, but you just looked so devastated, and I needed to let you know that you’re not the only woman with a shit mom. I know what it’s like to be embarrassed of her. It sucks. But it’s not about you. You didn’t do anything wrong. And for the record, I stand behind what I said about your hair earlier. It’s fucking amazing, and people pay shitloads of money to copy it. She’s jealous because you’re better than she’ll ever be. Also, Xander’s just pleased as pie that you’re in his hoodie.”
I swallow hard and look down at the huge garment. “He is?”
“Girl, yes. I don’t know if it’s the equivalent of a dog marking its territory or what, but he likes it. You look good in Flurry blue.” She winks at me.
“Oh, it’s not like that with Xander and me—”
“Of course. It’s purely professional.” Britney laughs. “Why don’t you come with us? We’re obviously leaving because your mom is a cunt and a half, bless her heart, and we need food. Xander says there’s a great place down the street. Let your mom work the bar and come with us.”
I don’t love the idea of leaving my mother to her own devices. But also, this is her bar. I don’t even technically work here.
So fuck it.
I don’t want to be here tonight. I’d rather hang out with these nice people.
“Please say yes,” Britney says. “I don’t want to be the only girl around all of that testosterone. All they do is talk about hockey and . . . that’s it. Hockey.”
I smirk and then nod. “You know what? I’m in.”
“Oh, thank God. You’ve just saved me. Come on, honey, let’s go paint this microscopic town red.”
She loops her arm through mine, and we walk out of the bathroom. I don’t return behind the bar, and Mom glares at me.
“I’m out,” I tell her. “Have a good night.”
“What the fuck, I’m not working till closing.”
“Then shut it down. I don’t really care.” I toss my apron on the bar, grab my purse, and then Britney smiles at my mother as she wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“Have the day you deserve, ma’am,” Britney says, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads over my face as she leads me to the door.
I just walked out on my mother.
And it feels damn good.
“You good, wildcat?” Xander asks.
“I’m hungry,” I reply honestly. “There was a rumor that I might get food.”
He examines my face for a moment, and then he smiles, nods, and turns to the others.
“The Salsa Bar it is,” Xander says. “It’s just down the block.”
“Best food in town,” Easton agrees, and we all fall into step on the sidewalk with him leading the way. Cooper takes his wife’s hand and brings it up to his lips for a kiss, and Xander and I bring up the rear.
“Sorry you had to see that. Again.” I clear my throat.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he replies. “I’m glad you came with us.”
“Thanks. Me too. Are you going to hog the chips and salsa?”
He scowls. “I would never.”
“Oh, he will,” Easton yells back. “So we’ll get extra.”
“You’re paying,” Xander yells in return, earning the finger.
I haven’t eaten at The Salsa Bar yet. It’s a new Tex-Mex place, and I’ve heard it’s amazing, but I hardly have time to pet my cat—that’s not an innuendo—so trying new restaurants hasn’t been on my radar.
But I can see that it’s a nice place, with outdoor seating and a rooftop space, which is where they seat us, in the corner, with a view of the mountains.
I’m glad I’m still in Xander’s hoodie so I won’t get cold.