Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
It’s already ten in the morning. I don’t know how I managed to sleep through my alarm. Actually, I know exactly how I managed that, but what’s important is that Mom’s birthday lunch is at twelve. If it were any other lunch, to Mom, that’d mean we would all need to be there by ten thirty at the latest. Considering it’s her sixtieth birthday, arriving any later than ten for a midday lunch is already considered late.
Thankfully I washed my hair and shaved all the important bits before Becs dragged me out last night, so it doesn’t take too long to get myself all squeaky clean. After stepping out of the shower, I quickly towel dry before pulling on a cute summer dress—my baby green, spotted backless one, the one I know Mom has always loved. Then because I know there’s a good chance that Izaac will show up, I pull the sleeves down over my shoulders, showing off just enough skin to remind him I’m not a child anymore . . . not that my tricks of the trade have ever worked before, but there’s always hope.
I pull my hair up into a long ponytail and add all my favorite jewelry before rushing through my makeup routine. I give myself a golden not-so-natural glow and hit my lashes with just enough mascara to make my eyes pop. Finally, I grab my overnight bag and shove everything I need into it.
I live close to campus, but it’s still a twenty-five-minute drive back to my parents’ place. Considering it’s only a quarter past ten, I’ll still beat Austin there, and that’s all that matters. I’ll be the favorite child today.
Hurrying out of my small apartment, I quickly lock up before making my way down to the parking garage and getting on my way. I crank the music to ease my nerves.
Going home is such a simple task, but knowing Izaac will be there creates such a stir in me. Since being in college, I haven’t spent much time at home outside of birthdays or holidays, and since Izaac is Austin’s chosen brother, he never misses a single family event.
His family is our family, and our family is his. It’s been this way since the moment he and Austin met as kids, and I grew up right alongside them.
After making great time on the highway, I park my car and slip in through the back door. Mom is busy slaving away in the kitchen. “Hey, Mom,” I say, walking straight into her and wrapping my arms around her. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh, my sweet girl. Thank you,” Mom says, locking me in a warm hug. “When did you get here? I didn’t hear you come through the door.”
I grin to myself, my plan working like a charm. “I got stuck talking to Nancy from next door. She was admiring your rose bushes,” I tell her. “But I don’t blame her. They’re looking incredible. What are you feeding those things?”
Mom laughs and pulls back, determined to get back to her cooking, but I quickly step in and take over, wanting her to relax on her birthday. Only Mom isn’t one of those women who can handle standing around, and she gets right to work on something else. “I got myself a new garden boy,” she tells me like it’s some kind of secret. “He’s not very good at the lawns, but when he prunes the bushes, he prunes them well.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Mom!”
“What? He’s a very handsome young thing. Maybe I should give him your number,” she muses. “You know, he likes to work without his shirt, and he’s got quite a fit body, very muscly, and has one of those V thingies. You know, like an arrow pointing right to his—”
“MOM!” My cheeks flush. “I’m sure your new gardener’s dick is as impressive as they come, but I really don’t need to hear about it.”
“Ugh,” I hear my father’s tone as he walks into the kitchen behind us. “Why is it that every time I walk into a room, I have to hear about someone’s dick?”
I smirk, not sorry in the least. Now, if he really wanted to hear about impressive dicks, I know of one I can tell him all about. Though for some reason, I doubt he’d want to hear about what said dick did to his little girl all night.
Dad steps into my side and wraps his arm around me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Dad,” I say, offering him a smile. “Do I want to know who else has been talking about dicks around you?”
“Your mother,” he states with a heavy sigh. “Always your mother.”
I can’t help but laugh as Dad collects the tray of meat and waltzes out the back door, ready to start grilling, as Mom keeps herself busy. “What time do you call this?” she mutters, sparing a second to glance at the clock—a clock that now reads eleven. “Where’s that brother of yours? I swear, he’s always running late.”