Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
An impish grin is swiftly presented to the pair in tandem. “How about I just tell you both that I’m gonna slowly but surely walk the fuck away from this conversation?”
Her shake of the head is attached to a small giggle while his is accompanied by an amused grunt. “Pussy.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to keep the chance of stayin’ in, Kid. You’ll learn.”
Laughter leaves them both prompting me to turn on my heels and head for the counter with a wide grin on my face.
I should probably hate how stupid I look smiling.
How goofy I get over something like listening to them laugh.
Fuck, how excited I get over all of us spending time together versus just the two of them.
And they do spend a shit ton of time together without me.
To the point I’m thinking about cutting hours for the first time since I started this shit a little over a decade ago.
I’m not jealous.
I’m just…not…happy about missing shit.
With either of them.
Doesn’t matter if it’s a dishwashing event turned wet t-shirt contest or a midnight Speed Racer streaming marathon because someone couldn’t sleep.
I wanna be around for it.
Fact?
No one goes out of their way to make me feel like the third wheel.
I just…I spend a lot of time driving around alone…wondering…thinking…wishing…I was home instead.
Helping the kid change sparkplugs.
Letting Rabbit doodle on my work boots.
Getting blown by whoever is up for it on the entry stairway to a classical music soundtrack.
You know…small shit.
Small shit that for some inexplicable reason is beginning to feel like big shit.
I plop the black dress shirt and gray dress pants on the counter in front of Posie McGarth, the owner’s daughter – also the only other employee of this shop – and try to tame the grin I’m displaying. “Can you hear ‘em up here?”
She carelessly drops her phone to one side of the counter and lets her bright blue eyes find my brown. “Not really.” Her bottom teeth steal a long, not subtle bite of her bottom lip the same way her mom’s always does when she’s looking at me too. “And that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
While Posie may be easy on the eyes and there may be nothing wrong with fucking people in the same family, I’ve never really wanted to join the list of men in this town – or the next one over – who could say with a straight face “your mom does it better”.
And despite what that cheating cunt of an ex of mine would say, I’ve never slept with this girl.
She’s too young.
Much too young.
I mean she fucking graduated with The Kid, for crying out loud.
Huh.
Okay that’s…different.
He’s different.
What we’ve got there is…fuck.
Why the fuck do I feel the need to keep justifying that shit instead of just letting it be whatever the fuck it is?
“Do me favor?” I retrieve my wallet from my back pocket. “No matter what either of them say, don’t let them pay.” Offering her my credit card is done with a goofy grin I need someone to scrub the fuck off my face. “I got it.” The instant the object is in her possession, I inquire, “You got it?”
“I got it.”
My head tips to one side to silently repeat the question.
“I got it, Nolan.” She’s tossed a smile of gratitude that’s cut short by her dramatic sighing. “You must really like this one.”
Sidestepping her word choice is easy. “Yeah, I guess you could say she’s…grown on me.”
“I’d say a lot more than that,” Posie states and pulls the clothes to her side of the counter. “You’ve always been this way with Kipp – the coddling, the cooing-”
“I don’t fucking coo.”
“-the wining and dining-”
“Kid has to eat.”
“-but you were sooooooo never like this with Jolene.”
Maybe if Jolene gave more of a shit I might’ve been.
Hell, if she gave half the amount of shit about me that Rabbit has since she’s shown up, I would’ve been more likely to marry her.
I said more likely not that I definitely would’ve.
She not so fucking secretly couldn’t stand The Kid, and I’d pick his ass over anyone else on any day of the week that ends in y.
“Come to think of it,” she gathers the clothing up to her chest like a blanket she needs to clutch for stability during her declaration, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this in love.”
My mouth drops down to argue the obvious, yet nothing comes out causing my eyebrows to pull together.
What the fuck?
I’m not in…
I can’t be.
It’s too soon.
Forfucksake, we haven’t even gone on a date!
Any of us.
Besides that kick you in the dick fact, I can’t be in…whatever…with someone or someone that I can’t or don’t or won’t or am not so sure I could call my…something.
What the hell is with this need to label every goddamn thing nowadays?!