Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Drop it, Mom.” I went to the pantry and took out a can of pumpkin.
“And you’re sure you gave him all the right signals?”
“I said drop it.”
“Well, I’m just wondering if maybe he doesn’t know you’re interested. Your romantic history suggests that successful flirtation might not be in your skill set.”
I had to laugh as I started unwrapping the dough. “And what would your idea of successful flirtation be? Bat my lashes above my handheld fan? Swoon on my fainting couch? Drop my hanky and see if he picks it up?”
My mother clucked her tongue. “Go on and make fun of my old-fashioned ideas. All I’m saying is that sometimes it takes a little extra effort to get someone to see you differently.”
“We see each other just fine, Mom.” I gave her a pointed look over one shoulder. “So I don’t want any nonsense today. Are we clear?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she sniffed, looking away from me and sipping her coffee.
“Yes, you do. And I am being one hundred percent serious about this. Do not make things uncomfortable for me or for Cole. No meddling allowed.”
She faked a hurt expression. “How could you even think it of me?”
“Because meddling is your favorite sport.”
“It is not! Perhaps I do occasionally get involved when I can see things so much clearer from my side of the fence, but that’s not the same thing as meddling.”
“That is exactly the same thing.” I pulled a rolling pin from a kitchen drawer.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to do it if I could trust my kids to run their lives as well as I can,” she huffed, setting her empty mug in the sink and breezing past me. “I’m going up to get dressed. And since you’re so busy down here, why don’t you let me choose an outfit for you today?”
“No. I am perfectly capable of dressing myself, thank you.”
“Fine.” She gave me one final harrumph before leaving the room. Five seconds later, she poked her head back in again. “But no jeans.”
“Mom!” I brandished the rolling pin like I might whack her with it.
“You say no meddling, I say no jeans!” she yelled, disappearing from view once more.
Alone again, I took a deep breath, set down my rolling pin, and took out my phone.
Me: Is it too early for whiskey in my coffee?
Blair: LOL probably. What’s up?
Me: Come over a little early if you can. I have a story for you.
Blair: Does it have a happy ending?
That made me laugh. Actually, yes, I typed. It has two.
“Wait a minute. You did what?” Blair, looking shocked beyond belief, sank onto my bed.
“I accidentally sexted him after we had dinner last night,” I said, putting on my second gold earring and checking my reflection in the mirror. In the glass, I saw Blair shake her head.
“I don’t understand how that happens.”
“I was typing out this fantasy where he arrests me and then things get hot and heavy in the back seat of his cop car, and I hit send by mistake.” I turned sideways, checking to see if my black sweater dress was too short. It was a chunky, off-the-shoulder style that didn’t cling to my curves or anything, but it did show some thigh.
“Oh my God! Why would you even type it if you weren’t going to send it?”
“For kicks. I was pretending I was going to send it. It was supposed to be a game.”
“So he texted back?”
“Yes. And then he called me.” I didn’t bother swearing her to secrecy—with us, it was understood. Turning to face her, I gestured at my burgundy suede thigh-high boots. “Too sexy for Thanksgiving?”
“Not at all. Now stop getting ready for a minute and tell me everything before he gets here!”
Laughing, I leaned back against my dresser and folded my arms. “Let’s just say he was glad I hit send and things ended up getting hot and heavy even though we weren’t in the same room.”
“Eeeek!” She bounced up and down on my bed. “You and Cole had phone sex!”
“Shhhhhh!” I glanced at my bedroom door, making sure it was shut. “Be quiet. I don’t want my mother to hear you. She’s been insufferable since I told her Cole paid for dinner last night. Apparently, that makes it a date in her book.”
“It kind of does. I mean, what else do you call it?”
“Dinner with a friend.”
“Even after the phone sex?”
“Yes. We talked about it afterward, and we agreed—just friends.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I shrugged. “I have to be.”
Blair pouted as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t love this journey for you.”
“It’s not really a journey, Blair. It was more of a quick and dirty road trip.”
“Why’s he being so stubborn?”
“Because he doesn’t have room in his life for a relationship. His heart belongs to his daughter. He likes being single.”