Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
What’s one more ride from Blake Riley tonight?
Chapter 16
Mountain Out of a Molehole
Jess
It’s Sunday afternoon, and we’re zipping along a nice suburban road in Blake’s Hummer. I could high-five myself for keeping my eyes straight ahead. I haven’t snuck any looks into the back seat, not even one. But I swear I got all hot and bothered the second this vehicle pulled up in front of the dorm. My body has a thing for Blake’s ride.
Or, let’s be honest, Blake.
“So who am I meeting today?” I’m not watching the muscles in his forearm flex as he drives. Not much anyway.
“The shower is for Brenna. My other two sisters will also be there, Beth and Britt. Two of them are married, including the pregnant one.” He chuckles. “Mom is over the moon. She’s bought out the baby store already, so my sister is gonna end up with four of everything. I mean, what does a baby really need? A bed and a hockey stick. The end.”
Hysterical. “So then what did you get the baby?”
“A hockey stick. Duh. And I paid for some fancy stroller. The Hummer of strollers, supposedly.”
“Nice.”
A few more miles roll by.
“Do you get along with your folks?” I ask curiously.
“Of course. They’re awesome.”
Hmm. Something just doesn’t add up. I can’t figure out why Blake would need a fake date for a family party. Unless there’s someone else giving him the willies. “Who else am I meeting? Anyone I should look out for? Any exes?”
And aha! He flinches.
“That bad, huh?”
Blake scowls. “It’s no big deal.”
Riiiiight. “Is she the reason you suddenly needed a girlfriend? Just level with me, and this will be easier to pull off. What’s her name?”
He sighs. “Molly. She’s my sister Brenna’s best friend. I don’t see her that often, but sometimes she gets all clingy.”
Ah. “But if I’m there, she’ll back off?”
“She’ll have to,” he grunts.
We turn down a tree-lined street in some area called Brampton. It’s lush and pretty in a way that’s completely different from California. I know nothing of Ontario, I realize, and this short break from my textbooks is a welcome reprieve, even if I was secretly brought here to defend Blake from the sharp talons of an ex.
“You should have warned me,” I say quietly. Then I immediately feel guilty because I tried to pass off Dyson as my boyfriend at Jamie’s wedding.
Hypocritical much?
He parks the car at the curb of a sprawling house with pink and blue balloons tied to the mailbox. There are potted mums on the front porch and a hedgerow of sunflowers. I love it already.
Blake snaps the keys from the ignition and turns to me. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I really appreciate you coming with me today.” His green eyes look uncertain, and it’s an expression I so rarely see on his face that I can’t help but melt a little. Blake Riley’s confidence has slipped? Call 911 and administer CPR.
I reach up and pat his cheekbone. “Am I allowed to have a little fun with it? Can I make up a story about our first date?”
“Go nuts, girlfriend.” He grins, making his face instantly more familiar. “I told ’em we met when we were both looking after Jamie. But I skipped the part about taking off my pants and daring you to find out if Wesley’s massage chair would turn my dick into a real-life vibrator.”
All my nether regions give a big shimmy at the memory. Gah.
Blake points his finger at me like a gun. “Keep that expression.” He winks. “You’re very convincing with that sexed-up look in your eyes.”
I frown on purpose. “I do not look sexed-up. Nobody here is sexed-up.”
If the backseat could talk, it would be laughing right now.
Blake doesn’t bother arguing the point. He gets out of his monster truck and comes around to my side, opening the door with a flourish. “Come and meet the Rileys, girlfriend.”
The house is chaos inside. Blake steers me into the kitchen, where at least a half-dozen women buzz around like bees. Though it’s no trouble identifying the Riley sisters. One of them is hugely pregnant, but the other two are just as easy to pick out. The female editions of Blake are basketball-player tall, with wide shoulders and even wider smiles. They wear floral-patterned dresses in different colors, and I can’t decide if the similarity is intentional.
In contrast, I look positively bashful in my little blue sleeveless dress.
They don’t notice our arrival because they’re clucking over a giant bakery box that just arrived. “Omigod!” the pregnant sister shrieks. “These are the best things ever.”
I stand on my tiptoes for a peek in the box. Row upon row of beautiful cupcakes wait, each frosted with a cloud of white icing and a single chocolate sperm swimming across the top.
“Damn, those are scary!” Blake crows.