Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Pulling up the app, I clicked on the camera in the kitchen so that it filled my screen. I had purposely not looked at the house cameras since I’d left because I didn’t want to see Oakley. Now, with her there in my kitchen, dressed in a crop top and tiny red shorts, stirring a pot while shaking her head at my daughter, who was clearly fighting back a fit of giggles as she held her phone, I wished I hadn’t looked.
The scene was one that was going to be hard to get out of my head. My kitchen, my daughter standing on a stool with a large bowl in front of her and a huge smile on her face while the only woman I’d ever loved stood at the stove, cooking, looking like a pinup model.
Fuck.
Jerking my gaze off Oakley, I watched as Belladonna put her front paws on the chair, begging for whatever was in Sarah’s bowl.
Clearing my throat, I quickly put my phone down. Staring at that wasn’t good for me. It was unrealistic shit, and I had to remember the cruelty that woman could wield.
“I see,” I said. “I’m sure you misunderstood the situation.”
“He asked me if she had a boyfriend and if she lived in town, and then he walked me to her car after school and winked at her.”
Not cool, Barry. My hand fisted as I glared at the window. Dammit, Oakley, do you have to cause a fucking scene everywhere you go?
“Tell me about your day. You. What you did today. What was the best part about your day?”
Get the subject off your aunt, who you love and I hate, before I say something I shouldn’t.
“My room! Oaky decorated it. She even got me this furry white beanbag chair that is AH-MAZING! And we are going to paint a mural of Belladonna playing down by the creek at her house. She’s going to draw it on the wall in my room, and then we paint it!”
Scowling, I fought the urge to grab my damn phone and throw it. Oakley hadn’t asked me if she could decorate Sarah’s room and buy her things for it. She sure as fuck hadn’t asked me if she could paint her walls. She was supposed to be babysitting, not redecorating my house.
“I have to finish buttering the bread to put in the oven, Daddy. I need to go. I love you!” Sarah’s voice came over the line, and I managed to respond appropriately.
She was telling me she loved me. She sounded like she meant it. She was happy.
I should be relieved. Not ready to strangle the woman giving me my daughter back.
Ten Years Ago
Oakley wanted me to react. This was her forcing me to admit that what I felt for her went deeper than friendship. I told myself that I couldn’t give her that. Telling her that I was fucking in love with her and wanted to murder my own cousin for touching her wasn’t going to help either of us.
I put the empty glass of whiskey down harder than necessary as I turned to walk outside. Go anywhere but stay in this fucking house, watching my little cousin—who I knew had cheated on Oakley just last week—act as if she belonged to him.
The smell of berries, pine, gingerbread, and sugar cookies filled the air at Sebastian’s mansion. Their annual Christmas party was always massive and over the top. I didn’t want to be here. My father had informed me in so many words that I had to be. This was family business. We came to all family business. So, here I was, enduring it. Hating every motherfucking moment of it.
I wanted to go inside and snatch Oakley away from Wells. Take her with me. Somewhere our age difference didn’t matter. Where I could hold her, kiss her, tell her that, yes, I loved her. I was infatuated with her. She owned me. All the things I knew she wanted to hear, but I couldn’t say.
The cold night air hit me as I stepped onto the back veranda, covered in twinkling holiday lights, several Christmas trees, and a decorative fire centerpiece. Few people were out here due to the frigid temperature. It rarely got this cold in the winter in Georgia. I ignored the bite of the icy wind and stood with my hands jammed in the front pockets of my dress slacks. The deep green sweater I was wearing wasn’t enough warmth, but my anger was doing a pretty damn good job of keeping me warm.
“I know you don’t fucking smoke, so why are you out here?” Thatcher drawled behind me.
I glanced back at him as he lit up a cigarette he’d just stuck between his teeth. The ridiculous bow tie and tux he was wearing would be comical on anyone else. However, Thatcher held his threatening persona just fine in it. He’d first come down to the party in a brown leather jacket, jeans, and boots. His mother had been extremely unhappy about it, so this was his response to it. The man never did anything halfway. It was all or nothing.