Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“How does that feel?”
“Odd yet refreshing.”
She laughs, the severity clouding her features just moments ago now gone. “What can I help you with?”
“Nothing.” I pause while Jenny places our drinks on the table and then scurries away. “I have to handle one thing at a time. Today, I was finishing up getting out of my apartment. Tomorrow, I will find a job. Next week, I’ll settle into my new place and then continue my job hunt. And thank God for Maddox helping me find someone who will rent to an unemployed person—for cheap, at that.”
“Have any job leads?”
“Actually, no. No one seems to need an accounts rep right now. I’m sure I’ll find something but it’s harder than I thought to find something decent.”
And that’s not bothering me at all. Ugh.
She takes a sip of her drink and sighs happily. “Damn, that’s good.”
I slide my margarita toward me.
“How did the move out go?” she asks. “Was that at least as simple as you thought it would be?”
My heart skips a beat.
Instead of answering her, I take a long slug of my drink and hope it cools my insides.
“But Banks is here.”
I don’t know what I expected to happen, but it wasn’t him showing up at my door. The last time we saw one another, we were mid-argument about whether spending money on high-octane fuel for vehicles was worth it or a scam. To be honest, I don’t know why I was even in that conversation. Not only am I not that concerned about which gas goes into my car, as long as it isn’t diesel, I’m also unbothered about what anyone else, let alone Banks, thinks.
Yet there I was, standing on Maddox’s front porch, holding down the line that it’s just a way for gas companies to make more money from consumers. Why I chose that hill to die on, I’ll never understand. All I know for sure is that I was smack dab in the middle of it, and I wasn’t backing down—especially to him.
Especially to him and that dimple. I sigh.
“Sara?” Rebecca asks.
I flinch and mentally return to the table. “Yeah?”
Her brow furrows. “I asked how your move went, and you just checked out on me.”
“Oh. Right. It went fine. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
I shift in my seat, swirling my long pink straw around my drink. “I had a very Sara moment today.”
“Meaning …”
Jenny drops off our plates and asks if we need anything else. Then she scoots off toward the table full of construction workers in the corner.
Our plates sizzle. Steaming peppers and onions fill the air, and I wonder why someone hasn’t created a candle for kitchens that smells exactly like this. Heaven.
I remove the foil from my tortillas. “I was getting my last few things packed up—mostly bathroom stuff. I was able to get my extra clothes, kitchen crap, and all of that to Sabrina’s earlier this week. The furniture came with the apartment, so all I really had left was the stuff I’m taking to Ashley’s.”
“Right.”
“Do you remember that glass jar of macadamia nut oil you got me for Christmas?” I ask.
She nods.
“Well, I love that stuff very much, and I’ve been milking it for as long as I can.”
Rebecca grins from ear to ear.
“I had it in one hand to carry to my bag and my vibrator in the other,” I say, not making eye contact with her. “And, through a series of unfortunate events, the glass broke. The oil went all over the tile floor. I slipped, and the vibrator went down my toilet.”
“Sara.”
“I’m fine, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I say, generously slathering sour cream on my tortilla.
“Um, yeah. That’s not really what I was wondering.”
Didn’t think so. I layer lettuce and pico de gallo on top of the sour cream. “I got the oil cleaned up. There wasn’t that much left, so it wasn’t a huge loss.”
“And?”
“I used a coat hanger to try to fish the vibrator out, but it wasn’t happening. So I borrowed a plunger from the neighbor and tried to use that. Also, a fail.”
Rebecca’s gaze doesn’t stray from me. It nearly burns a hole in my forehead.
She and I have had many conversations about Banks and the rest of the Carmichaels over the years—more so now that Ashley is officially one of them.
The good genes run deep in that family. They’re a loud, mischievous, chaotic bunch who values family over all else. They have striking eyes in various shades of green and blue. Every one of them is lean and built from years of sports and physical activity. There isn’t one of them that doesn’t belong on a magazine cover.
And then there’s Banks—the hottest one of them all.
I don’t know what it is about him that makes him so ridiculously attractive.
He sings old country songs too loudly in the truck. He seems to think things like knowing the location of your car fuses are downloaded into your brain at birth. Worst of all, getting him to take anything seriously takes a shield and sword, and he prioritizes things on his own scale. It matters not what anyone else thinks. He runs on Banks time.