Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
There’s just one little thing Sawyer hasn’t told his wife, and you can bet the truth will always come out.
Warning: A secret bet, an angry relative, and a husband on the hunt. Find out what happens when an omission turns into catastrophe!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Chloe
I hate how nervous I always get when I see my stepbrother. It’s not helping that I’m alone. Normally my mom or stepfather Bruce would be with me. He and my mom have been married for over five years, and in that time, I’ve only seen my stepbrother Paul a few dozen times. Even then, it was always for an event or party.
By the time our parents got married, he was in college and had already moved out of the house. He didn’t seem happy about their marriage in the beginning, but over time, he has warmed to my mom. To me? Not so much. No matter how hard I try he always seems annoyed.
I kept it hidden from my mom and Bruce how rude Paul could be. Clearly, he didn’t want me around, and I didn’t want to cause waves. My mom has never smiled so much in her life since she and Bruce got married, so I kept my mouth shut. Paul isn’t around much, so I let it go even though I still try to win him over in the rare times we are around each other. Somehow doing that seems to make it worse.
Then a month ago, things changed. I got into a culinary school I’d been dying to go to, and it happened to be in the same city Paul lives in. He works at the family’s financial firm here in New York. Both my mom and Bruce said it was perfect, and since Paul has so much room, I could stay with him.
After that, I finally broke down and told my mom that Paul doesn’t like me. She said I was being silly and living together for six months would be the perfect time for us to bond. I thought she might be right until I talked to my stepbrother the following day. He made it clear to me he wasn’t happy about this, and I was to stay out of his way.
So that’s exactly what I plan on doing now that I’m on my way to New York. I’m going to go to school and then spend the rest of my time in my room or exploring different restaurants. I have a list that’s a mile long of places I want to eat.
My phone chimes with a text alert from inside my purse, and I shuffle through the giant bag to search it out. Slippery bugger always goes straight to the bottom. My mom teases me about my purse and how big it is and everything I keep inside it. I tell her that I never know what I might need.
Paul: It’s Friday. My night to host poker night. You should make some of your snacks if you want.
I stare at the text wondering if my stepbrother sent it to the wrong person.
Me: You know this is Chloe, right?
Paul: I texted you, didn’t I?
Me: Yeah. I thought you said to not be around.
Paul: It’s fine
I smile at the text and hope that he might be coming around. Everyone knows how much I love to cook. Maybe this is a welcoming gesture of some kind.
Paul: Just don’t be weird.
He thinks I’m weird?
Me: I won’t be weird
Me: Well, I mean I’ll try my best not to be!
I can totally not be weird.
Me: What do I wear?
Paul: Why the hell would I care?
Right. I chew on my bottom lip, thinking over my options. I’m guessing it will be a bunch of guys. My stepbrother is almost ten years older than me, but I’ve never met any of his friends. While I'm thinking it over, my phone goes off again.
Paul: Something without animals on it.
I glance down at my pink sweater with a kitten on it. I guess I’ll need to change. Do I wear that many clothes with animals on them?
“We’re here, miss,” the driver says as the car rolls to a stop in front of the brownstone. It’s still hard to get used to the wealth my mom’s husband has even after all these years.
The driver gets out, and I hurriedly gather my things. I want to get inside and change before I see what food Paul might have on hand. Knowing my mom, she likely called ahead for a grocery order for me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell the driver when I get out and see him struggling with my luggage. “Let me help.”
“If you could get the door.” He nods toward the porch steps. I start to search for the key Bruce gave me before I left for my flight this morning. By the time I find it in my bag, the driver has all three of my bags on the porch.
“Sorry,” I say again when I slide it into the lock but it doesn't turn. I wiggle it a few times, but nothing happens. The driver lets out a sigh, and I mutter another apology just as the door is pulled open from the inside.