Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Do you want another?” I asked.
He looked torn, not wanting to eat another—likely due to a strict diet—but wanting it anyway.
I reached in and got him what looked like an old-fashioned donut—arguably the best donut in history—and handed it to him.
He took it with a sigh, then ate it.
The next forty minutes was spent with us sampling every single donut.
He drank the chocolate milk halfway, then offered the rest to me. So I gave him my half of the orange juice in trade.
When we pulled in, I had glazed sprinkles all over my boobs and my lap, and he had a hand on his belly, indicating he was overly full.
“Now,” he said as he found a parking spot, expertly backing into it as if he’d done it a million times in his sleep, “remember what I said. Don’t freak out when you see photographers. Everyone here is popular, and they think it’s some huge pony show that warrants media coverage.”
“I don’t care about media coverage,” I said. “But I do care about this poor little leftover glazed donut. So I’m going to go ahead and eat it.”
We got out with me stuffing my face with the donut. I hooked the hoody part of Keene’s sweatshirt on my head and threw it over my shoulder, wearing it like a cape.
Meanwhile, I had glaze remnants all over my shirt, a mouthful of donut, and a half drank bottle of chocolate milk in my hand when we rounded the truck.
Which, of course, was when the photographer I hadn’t seen hiding in the bushes popped out and aimed their camera at us.
I licked my lips, tasting glaze, and realized that I was about to have a very unflattering photo of me floating around the internet.
Awesome.
“Told you,” he said as he eyed me up and down.
I shrugged, uncaring.
“One time,” I said as I twisted off the chocolate milk top. “My sister Val took a photo of me covered in shit—literal shit because I’d just cleaned out a porta potty we keep on site for us—and posted it on the circus’s website. We had a hundred thousand hits on it in an hour.”
Nash snorted. “Your family is brutal.”
“My family is what they are.” I shrugged.
We were what my father made us.
And there was nothing that I could do about it now.
“Come on,” he said as he tugged me past the guy still taking a hundred photos a second as we passed. “Looks like we may be spending a lot of time inside today if they’re already here this early.”
We got inside and I took another bite of my donut, so freakin’ full that even my stretchy pants weren’t covering it anymore. My eyes widened when I got a look of the amount of people inside.
For the small number of cars in the parking lot, it sure didn’t match up with the hundreds of people inside.
“Wow,” I said. “Where did all these people come from?”
Nash didn’t answer me, instead leading me over to a very good-looking family already occupying a huge round table.
Every seat was filled except for one.
Nash ripped the chair out, took a seat, and then tugged me unceremoniously into his lap.
I hit with a jolt, knocking more glazed particles onto my lap.
“Who is this?” an older man who looked a whole lot like the man underneath me said.
“This is Zip,” Nash said. “Zip, I’d like you to meet my family. That’s my dad, Kendall. My mom, Whitney. Sister on the left, Aracelli. Then there’s Cory. Brother, Tyson on your direct left. And my other brother, Hoyt.”
Their names went in one ear and out the other.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “And sorry, but I don’t remember names well.”
Or at all.
I’m surprised I even knew my own sometimes.
But damned if I’d ever forget Nash’s.
A whispered conversation came from my side, and I looked over in time to see his brother say, “…she know?”
“She doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way,” Nash said quietly.
The brother looked at me with a frown on his face that looked so much like Nash it was uncanny.
Hell, they could be twins.
Hell, all of them could be twins. Even the dad looked like he was just an older, much more refined version of the brothers.
“Sure,” Hoyt said. “And how do you know this beautiful girl, Nash?”
I smiled sweetly. “I’m his all-time best stalker.”
The table went quiet for a few long seconds, then there was laughter.
“Shut up,” Nash rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t actually believe my words. “We met at the apartment complex. She’s Winston’s sister-in-law.”
“Ahh,” the one who asked that question said. “That makes sense.”
They all turned to look at me at once, and the last thought I had was ‘let the inquisition begin.’
CHAPTER 6
My ex was like “I know a spot” then took me to the lowest point in my life.