Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“Well, hello. Look at you, aren’t you a pretty little thing.”
She wraps her arms around Katie, who gives her a warm hug back. My heart melts a little at that. She isn’t abashed or scared, but welcomes the greeting from the woman who raised me.
“Now, tell me this grandson of mine treats you well,” she says, her arm around Katie’s waist. “He might be a big billionaire, but around here, he’s still my boy.”
Katie looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“Good boy,” Katie mouths at me, teasing.
I narrow my eyes at Katie and make a discreet little swatting motion in the air, in retaliation to her comment, which only serves to make her laugh.
“Is he?” she says to Gran. “You know, I could totally see that.”
Oh, could she? Seems I’ll have to set that record straight later tonight. There isn’t one ounce of boy left in this daddy.
They go up the stairs together, and I’m left alone with Rawley.
There’s an awkward moment of silence but I decline to speak first, enjoying watching him squirm. “I could’ve told you before I… before you, I mean, well, I—”
“It’s fine,” I lie.
He sighs and shoves his hands further in his pockets. “She’s good to me, man.”
Bullshit.
He shrugs. “It’ll work out. We have...an open arrangement in our relationship.”
“A fucking what?”
“Open arrangement.” He shrugs. “No need for monogamy, man. It’s the twenty-first century. I mean, I know you guys had a misunderstanding, but maybe if you weren’t so old-fashioned, things could’ve worked out. Glad there’s no hard feelings.” He slaps my back and heads up the stairs. I’ve never wanted to deck him so hard in my life.
No hard feelings, my ass.
But the clouds shift, and the sun peeks through, illuminating the large, grassy lawn. I breathe in deeply. I’m home, I’ve got a sweet woman to warm my bed, and I’ve risen above goddamn Tiffany’s catty shenanigans.
I grab our bags and head inside, intent on not letting Tiffany or Rawley or any of them fuck this trip up. Rawley and Tiffany deserve each other.
The black lacquered door swings closed behind me. I look for Katie, but only see Rawley, who’s wielding the duster on the mantle while Tiffany sits, scowling, her arms crossed on her chest. Good luck with that one, bro.
The gleaming hardwood floors give way to tile as I make my way to the sprawling farmhouse kitchen. Katie’s sitting at the breakfast bar, already nursing a cup of tea.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” I say. I walk over to Katie and kiss her cheek. “You keep Gran out of trouble while I bring the bags upstairs.”
Gran grins and swats at me with the wooden spoon she’s using to stir the large pot.
“Now, you have the room with the white enamel pitcher in it,” she says. “And Katie has the one with the violet door.”
I give her an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”
She looks sternly at me. “I see a ring on her finger, Darius Morrow, but it isn’t the kind that gives you permission to share a room in my house.”
For some reason I don’t quite fathom, Katie finds this outrageously amusing. She buries her face in the teacup to hide her laughter. When Gran turns back to the stove, I give her a warning look. I’ll make my way to her room, and no one will hear her screams when I spank her ass and make her come tonight, in this ancient, spacious mansion.
It’s so different here than the place I call home. The stairs are immaculately clean, the smell of lemon wood polish clean wafting through the air. A large vase of wildflowers christens a little table on the landing, the windows are wide open, and a warm southern breeze makes hand-sewn curtains flutter. My room is adjacent to Katie’s, and I quickly leave our bags before I go back downstairs.
It feels nice sitting beside Katie at the wooden table, and if I admit it, nicer than sitting at the fanciest high-top table in Vegas.
“It’s lovely here, Gran,” she says, then she leans into me and whispers, “She told me to call her Gran.” Katie’s eyes glow. She’s lapping this up.
“Thank you,” Gran says. “Darius, why don’t you take Katie for a stroll around the property while I finish getting dinner ready?” She gives me a big wink.
I stifle a groan but take Katie’s hand and lead her out the back door. Clean laundry flaps on a clothesline, and Gran has large tomato plants growing just outside her door, the ripe cherry tomatoes hanging low, ready to be picked. Katie leans down and breathes them in. “It smells so green.”
“Have you ever eaten one? Straight from the vine?”
She shakes her head in wonder. “I grew up in the city. Never.”
I pluck a cherry tomato and wipe it on my shirt. “Try it.”