Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 47200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“C’mon,” I urge her. “Show me around town. Take me grocery shopping,” I suggest, determined to enjoy ourselves no matter what comes from all this.
“We can fill up both our pantries and maybe we can cook up a storm for dinner?” I ask, but May’s already fretting, I can tell.
“Hey, it was your Dad’s idea to take me on a grocery run, right?” I reason with her.
Glad when she finally yields. Smiling and relaxing again. “You’re right. That he did,” she agrees.
“But easy with those kisses,” she’s quick to add. “What if it was Dad that happened by just now?”
I bite my tongue, and to keep her happy, I agree to her new terms and conditions.
No aggressive kissing in public.
Our little run-in with the Professor just now affirmed my feeling that small-town eyes and ears are always connected to big mouths.
“Say?” I ask May once we’re in her car again, me being squashed up so much, she kinda has to drive the damned thing.
I wouldn’t be able to drive it if I wanted to. My knees are almost around my ears.
“Is there like a lingerie store or something in town too?” I ask her, not kidding around, but she thinks I’m teasing her somehow.
“I think there is, but I don’t think that’s where you wanna be seen hanging out, is it?” she asks me, easily navigating her way through the quiet streets.
Looking more at home than ever with small-town life.
Maybe I could get used to being here. It’s the one place she seems most at home because it’s all she’s known.
“I’ll keep it in mind for future reference,” I explain, fishing for my phone and deciding to check those messages of my own while May drives.
I make the mental note that she’s gonna need a ready supply of all things underwear. The memory of tearing hers off is still fresh enough in my mind to remind me that I wanna make it a regular thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
May
I think it must be my imagination.
Gotta be.
Nope…. Everyone’s staring at us.
We’re nowhere near touching, and I definitely don’t have a sign around my neck proclaiming I’m no longer a virgin.
But once I notice how everyone’s looking at us in the grocery store, I also notice them all looking up.
Brandon.
I keep forgetting a man his size in a town this small. He’s gonna turn heads.
But as quick as folks are to stare and gawp, they’re just as fast to look away, especially when they lock eyes with him.
“Grab whatever you need, whatever you want. For your place, too,” Brandon smiles at me, looking like he’s feeling the strain of not being able to touch me already.
He’s focusing on filling the biggest cart he could find.
Making me wonder how I’m gonna explain a houseful of food to my dad, but I’m sure he’s well aware of just how naturally generous Brandon is by now.
We check out after filling another cart despite my protests, with Brandon reasoning that the less he has to go out to shop, the more time he has to work on his new house.
He doesn’t need to shoot me a wink or speak in riddles, but it’s clear he’s saying out loud to keep up appearances.
I actually think it’s a great idea.
If we stock up now, we don’t have to venture out for anything later.
No tutoring and no errands to run for at least a week. What’s a girl gonna do with all her spare time?
I’m pretty sure Brandon has some ideas, but as I pull into our street, I see my dad’s truck parked out front.
I swallow hard and feel my foot easing off the gas.
“You’re Dad’s home,” Brandon says in a strained voice, but he’s not worried.
He sounds more like an animal guarding its food than he does someone who’s afraid of getting caught.
Taking a deep breath, I pull into the drive, and as I help Brandon start to unload the groceries, the moment of confrontation I’ve been dreading…
Never happens.
Far from it, my dad practically leaps outta the house to welcome us both, beaming a huge smile.
Brandon’s mood instantly shifts because if my dad’s happy, so is Brandon.
And I’m off the hook for now.
“You’re home early, Dad,” I observe, but he’s way too pumped up about something else to ask us where we’ve been or why I didn’t go tutoring today.
He’s grinning like a maniac, and I wonder if he’s finally cracked. But catching Brandon’s knowing look, I figure it must be good news somehow.
Whatever it is.
“I dunno what you did, Big B. But it worked!” my dad almost shrieks, pumping the air with his fist before high-fiving Brandon, who doesn’t seem surprised at all somehow.
“What did you do?” I ask them both, but it’s like I’ve disappeared or something.
Dad’s gone into full Brandon-best buddy mode, slapping his back, whooping, and hollering. It’s not until we’re inside that I can get any sense out of him.