Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
18
MILO’S WOMEN
MILO
“Hey,” Rae says, stepping out of her car as I brush the dried mud off my boots. She flips her red hair over her shoulders and slides her hands into her pockets. Her familiar vanilla scent wafts toward me. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I was at my dad’s place yesterday, and you’ll never guess what I saw on his refrigerator.”
I scrub the mud from my boots, glancing up at her again. “What’s that?”
“An invitation to your wedding. Milo …” She coughs a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re getting married … to Jolene Ellington? Is this some joke?”
“Sadly, no.” I refocus on my boots.
“Sadly, no? What does that mean?”
“It’s a business arrangement more than a marriage.”
“An arranged marriage?”
God, I hate how that sounds. “A marriage of convenience.”
“Wow. I never saw you as that guy.” She digs the toe of her boot into the dirt.
“That guy?” I toss the brush aside and carry my boots to my place.
“The guy who marries for money,” Rae says, following me.
“Try again.” I set my boots inside the door and wash my hands in the bathroom. The soap stings the cuts along my arm from my run-in with a wire fence.
“What do you mean try again?” Rae asks the second I return to the kitchen. She tosses her handbag on my sofa.
It’s been a month since I’ve seen Indie. We text, but the elephant in the room keeps getting bigger. When I’m desperate to hear her voice, I call her just to say good night. I’m a little on edge about this wedding, and the last thing I need is Rae questioning what kind of guy I am or am not.
“I’m marrying Jolene because I’m loyal to her family, and they’ve done a lot for me. I’ll never be able to repay them unless—”
“Unless you marry Jolene?”
“Something like that.” I open my fridge and survey the mostly empty shelves. Something needs to go. I wrinkle my nose. I think it’s raw milk that’s weeks past its freshness.
“Do you love her?”
I glance over my shoulder. “Yes. We’ve had a handful of interactions around the holidays. We’ve been on one date. I don’t even have her cell phone number. But yeah … I love her.”
“Jesus …” Rae winces. “We’ve had sex, and I wouldn’t marry you this quickly.”
I grunt, opting for the usual—burnt grilled cheese. “Thanks. The feeling is mutual.”
Rae laughs, crossing her arms while resting her backside against my counter. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. And if your dad has told you much of anything about the Ellington family, then you know this marriage is nothing more than an extension of the business. An insurance policy, I suppose.” I nod toward the loaf of bread while I fetch my slices. They’re so dry they practically crumble in my hand. “Do you want a sandwich?”
“I’ve seen your sandwiches. They’re black. No, thank you. Let me say … if you find a woman who eats black sandwiches, she’s the one you should be marrying. But I highly doubt you’ll find her. So yeah … marry Jolene Ellington and die a rich man.”
“Indie eats my burnt grilled cheese.” I give Rae a quick sideways glance.
“Senior-in-high-school Indie? Fletcher’s daughter Indie?”
I nod, buttering my bread.
“Well, there you go. Ask Fletcher to let you marry Indie instead of Jolene. I’m sure he won’t have an issue with you marrying his eighteen-year-old daughter.” She laughs more.
Ignoring her, I press my sandwich against the pan with a firm hold on the spatula. Maybe in another life, Indie’s age would matter to me. She’s a woman with a woman’s body. She wants me. I fit inside her. And she orgasms from my touch. If she wasn’t supposed to be sexual, God fucked up and let her hormones rage a little too early. I have no time, patience, or desire to conform to societal standards.
“You’re a good man, Milo. You’re marrying someone you don’t love and barely know, yet you’re being faithful to her even before your vows.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I assume she’s why we’re now friends without benefits?”
Despite my urge to set the record straight, I keep my chin down and my mouth shut.
“Right?” she asks again.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Sorry. Was that a question I needed to answer?”
After helping herself to one of the last beers in my fridge, she sits on my sofa. “I mean … who would know? Really? You’re not breaking any vows to God yet. And it’s not love. I bet she’s getting some.”
I shut off the gas and slide my sandwich onto a plate. “Jolene can do whatever she wants.” Plopping my tired ass onto the end of my bed, I inspect the black sandwich before taking a bite that sears the roof of my mouth.
Rae laughs when I open my mouth to release the steam. “What do you want to do?” She gives me that flirty smile that’s worked so well for her before now. Before Indie.