Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Hold this.” He holds it out for me, and I grab it while he unloads my pink carry-on and his black steel one. “I did, but that was only because he just started dating Grace and he was afraid one of her relatives would try to shoot him.”
“If my cousin Matty didn’t get shot after dating Sofia and then dumping her, and then finding her again when she was going to plan his wedding to another woman.” I shrug. “I think he was safe.”
“Grace broke up with him and went back to the family farm and he had to chase her.”
I hiss, “With Casey there?” I mention her grandfather, who is very, very similar to my Uncle Matthew. Actually, if you put them together, I’m pretty sure they can take over the world. Casey would do it underground. Matthew would do it in your face while you’re watching your life implode, and he’ll do it with a smile as if you guys are having a beer together.
“On his horse and everything.” He shocks me. “Even I thought he would shoot me in the ass, and I wasn’t even the one who Grace was dating.” He slams the trunk closed before he extends his hand for his backpack. Handing it to him, I expect him to give me my luggage, but instead, he slides his backpack over his shoulder and then wheels both the suitcases side by side. “The plane is waiting.” It’s the only thing he says when I try to grab it from him.
I follow him through the gate toward the plane. The male flight attendant stands at the bottom of the stairs with another man, who is wearing shorts and a T-shirt. They smile at us when we arrive. “Good morning,” the flight attendant greets us with a huge smile. “I’m Gerald, and I’ll be your flight attendant this morning,” he says. “Robert will take your bags for you, and we will be off as soon as you are ready.”
I walk up the three steps to the plane, this one smaller than the one I flew here on. This one has just one seat side by side and a couch behind the one seat. “Left or right?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Whichever one you aren’t sitting in,” he replies. “Unless I sit down in the one you want and you sit on top of me.”
I roll my eyes but my head screams that sounds like a great plan. “Rule number, I don’t even remember which number it is, but I do know you are breaking it.”
“Things get boring when everyone plays by the rules,” he scoffs, taking off his sunglasses and folding them. He tucks them into the front of his polo shirt where the buttons are. “Don’t you think?”
“I’ve always played by the rules,” I retort, sitting in the chair on the left, “and I’ve been entertained most of the time.” I am lying through my teeth. I have never, ever gone out of my comfort zone. I have never bent the rules. If there were rules, they were there to make sure and protect everyone from travesty. The only time I’ve bent the rules and gone out of my comfort zone was when I accepted to come here and work with him, and now I'm sitting on a plane with him going to Vegas. I’ve done all of this because my so-called ex-boyfriend had trouble with committing to me, and I wanted him to take a stand. Which, after a week, he still has yet to take. Sure, he said he wanted to be committed, but did he show it? No. Did he do anything to prove it to me? Not one fucking thing. Not even a fucking fruit basket. He has only shown me that I did the right thing.
Nash sits in his chair, taking his phone out of his back pocket before handing his backpack to Gerald, who lets us know he will stow it until after takeoff. I hand him mine also as I buckle my belt.
It takes us no more than seven minutes for us to be airborne. Gerald has enough time to hand me my matcha latte and Nash a bottle of orange juice. “Do you drink coffee?”
“I do,” he says, taking a gulp of his orange juice, “in the morning, right before the gym.”
“You went to the gym?” I ask, almost shocked when he nods.
“I’m usually there at around four thirty. If I don’t, I’m usually on my treadmill at least.”
“Every day?” My mouth hangs open at this knowledge.
“Every day except on Sunday. I try to go easy on Sunday.”
“I mean, it’s the Lord’s day.” I can’t help but laugh at myself, making him laugh at me. The plane ride is so short I don’t even have a chance to get my bag back from Gerald and neither does Nash.