Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“What does Brooke have to do with it?”
“Look,” she says, turning to face me. I spare her a brief glance to let her know I’m listening, before putting my attention back to the road. “I’m just at a good point in my life that I could make a career change. I came here to check the area out. Then Sebastian told me about the job, so I thought, why not?”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I say neutrally. I don’t mention that Brooke was hoping to move into merchandising. She had not told Nanette about that, so I wasn’t about to. “But can I give you some advice?”
She gives a sigh. “Sure. Go for it.”
“Be a little bit of a better guest to Brooke,” I tell her bluntly, shooting her a look that locks in place for just a moment.
“What do you mean?” she asks, and to her credit, she sounds dumbfounded.
I know I can’t change her personality. Someone so stuck on herself is not going to miraculously become humble. But I can plant a seed. “Just…try to be more aware. Help out around the house. Be gracious to Brooke. Don’t call her in the middle of the night because you’re broke and need a ride.”
I brace and wait for anger. I get curiosity instead. “Why do you care? What you have with her is a sham. It’s not real.”
I laugh and turn to look at Nanette. “Now that’s where you’re very wrong.”
“Really?” she asks in a skeptical voice.
“Really.”
Chapter 21
Brooke
I pull the rest of the bacon off the griddle, sliding it onto a plate lined with paper towels. I cooked an entire package this morning because I don’t know how much Bishop will actually eat on game day, but I didn’t want to underestimate. I won’t start the eggs until he gets up, which should be soon. He’d set the alarm last night for 8 A.M. because he has a morning skate at ten. Then it’s off to rest until he has to get to the arena for the game tonight.
The sound of creaking on the floorboards causes me to turn that way, ready to level a smile at him. Instead it’s Nanette padding through the living room and heading into the kitchen. She’s holding her hand to one side of her head and I’m guessing she’s nursing a nice hangover. She’s wearing a bathrobe, but I’m thankful it’s one of those big, fluffy ones that covers her almost neck to toe.
“Hey,” she says in a hoarse voice as she enters the kitchen.
“Hey,” I say cautiously. “Want some coffee?”
“I can get it,” she says with a wan smile, and rounds the kitchen island to help herself.
I turn to the toaster and load it up with bread. “Would you like some breakfast? Bacon’s done and I can whip you up some eggs.”
“No, thank you,” she says, and the politeness actually causes me to turn and look at her. She’s leaning back against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee. She lowers the mug and admits, “My stomach’s not feeling that great. Way too much alcohol last night.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Want some ginger ale or something?”
She shakes her head. “I’m good. But I can totally help you make breakfast if you want.”
“I’ve got it covered.” I smile to her and turn back to the toaster.
“I’ll help with the kitchen after,” she says, and it’s a good thing I’m not facing her or else she’d see the shock she’d just given me by the offer to help. Apparently, Bishop’s words must have made an impact on her last night.
I was awake when they got home. I stayed in the bedroom listening as the front door opened. No conversation and two sets of footsteps heading to the bedrooms. Bishop opened my bedroom door and closed it again, looking dismayed to see me awake with the bedside lamp on.
“Thought you were supposed to go to sleep,” he chided before stripping to his briefs and sliding into bed next to me. He then told me how everything went down with Nanette, including the way she came on to him. He’d also told her to just be a better guest, and apparently she remembered that.
“Hey, Brooke,” Nanette says softly to get my attention, and I turn to face, her eyebrows raised in question. She looks to the side a moment, screwing her face in what I think might be courage, and then starts to just gush as her eyes come back to me. “I’m really sorry about last night. Calling you like that. I wasn’t broke. I just wanted you to come out and have fun with me. I was lonely, and I never expected Bishop to show up. And I’m really sorry I’ve been a bitch and a bad houseguest. I’ve always been a little bit of a slob, but this is your house I’ve been disrespecting and you’ve been nothing but kind. So please…forgive me for being a total bitch. I’m really, really sorry.”