Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“I already called ahead, and they’re at home.” He grinned. “Told them I was delivering a package, but if you’re not going to help, then I’ll find it myself.” He picked up his phone, flipped through his texts, and plugged something into the GPS.
Good God, the man was actually excited. “When did you have time to call my parents? How did you even get the number?”
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Called Ben when you stopped into the bathroom at the airport. He gave me the number. I called your parents. It takes you a ridiculously long time to pee.” The light turned green, and he drove on.
“You can’t…” I sputtered as we passed The Chatterbox, my favorite diner, and came up on Sweet Cheeks, my favorite bakery. Everything here was my favorite. It was my home, and he was invading it with his…rock-starness.
“I can’t what? This should be the turn, right?” He glanced at the GPS.
“You can’t just barge into my private life without so much as asking!” Especially when certain ex-parts of my private life had very much mocked my career ambitions.
“That’s fucking hilarious.” He laughed, his shoulders shaking under his black T-shirt. The muscles of his forearms rippled beneath all that ink as he straightened the wheel. “You moved into my house without asking me. Isn’t that my private life?”
He slowed, then stopped, allowing Mrs. Henderson to cross the road with her corgi.
“It’s not the same,” I hissed, fighting the urge to slump in my seat. The minute she spotted me, everyone within ten miles would know I was home. At least she favored the Christian station, so she wouldn’t know I wasn’t the hottest news in town—Nixon was.
I’d been gone eight years, and my only accomplishments were getting my ideas rejected by Ben and fetching his coffee. Eighteen-year-old me would have been horrified. According to past-me, I was supposed to be scouting bands and cutting deals for the next big thing. Instead, I was Nixon Winters’ live-in nanny. Disillusionment didn’t begin to describe the soul-sucking grunt work that was the music industry, and I’d come into it with a college degree and a recommendation from one of Ben’s closest friends, who’d happened to be my professor.
“Do they have a spa here or anything? Because you seriously need to unwind.” He crept up Mulberry Avenue at a very respectable twenty-five miles per hour. At least I didn’t have to worry about him terrorizing the general public with his driving skills.
“We have a hair salon that doubles as a mani-pedi place, but if you want a spa, you came to the wrong town. I’m sure we could tip her extra if you need a little waxing. Have to say, I kind of like the idea of you writhing in a little post-rip pain.”
“And people think I’m a sadist. Sheesh.” He turned onto Honeysuckle Lane, and my heart leaped. How long had it been since I’d been home? Christmas?
Admit it, you can’t wait to see them.
“It’s the white house with the green shutters,” I said, pointing down the block.
Nixon pulled the SUV into the driveway, killed the engine, and peered up at my parents’ house. It wasn’t a four-million-dollar penthouse, but the three-bedroom craftsman was…everything. It was home.
“You grew up here?” he asked, his brow puckering as we got out of the car, then stood on the sidewalk that led to the front porch.
“Yep.” I loved this place and everyone in it.
“But…it looks new. Everything around here looks new, actually.” He glanced down the street.
“We had a fire about a decade ago.” My heart clenched, just like it did every time I thought about it. “It took out the whole town. Mom and Dad rebuilt from the foundation up with the same floor plan. It’s kind of creepy because it’s the same…but it’s not, which is awesome at the same time. My parents…” God, how did I explain my parents to Nixon?
He studied me quietly. “Look, I’m not a complete dick, and I know there’s a line here. So, if you don’t want to go inside, or if you want me to wait in the car while you do, I understand.”
I blinked, but there was no teasing glint in his eyes. The guy was serious. And even if I was terrified of what this impromptu visit might do to my little town, I really, really wanted to see my family.
“You wanted to come, so now you’re stuck. Let’s go.” I walked up the front steps, then paused. Was I really about to introduce Nixon to my mother and father?
He looked good. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said he’d put on some healthy weight. His T-shirt was plain, so nothing to worry about there, and it wasn’t like I could do anything about the sleeves of ink going up his arms. I wouldn’t even if I could. They were part of what made him…him. When I got to his face, I found him watching me.