Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“I don’t do silver platters,” I say, a smile trying to form on my lips. “That’s my grandma’s style.” I’m falling back to old habits, lightening the heaviness of the moment because we’re both throwing out some painful honesty, and neither of us is accustomed to that.
She sighs as she smiles too. “You know what I mean. I don’t need or want fancy shit. I want a man who adds to my life and isn’t just another person for me to take care of. I want someone who takes care of himself, who can take care of me even when I say I don’t want him to, and helps me live a life that’s not stuck in survival mode. Where there’s happiness and laughter, not only worry and fear. And that’s not about money. It’s about… heart.”
She lays her head on my shoulder, and I can nearly hear her thinking even over the thoughts whirling though my own mind. After a few minutes, she asks, “This is why that police officer changed his tune, isn’t it? Your family name and connections?”
I dip my chin, nodding. “Yeah. As wrong as it is, with money comes privilege, and my parents have more than God. So do my brothers and sister, for that matter. Everyone but me.”
“Because you’re somehow the black sheep of the family,” she says. It’s not a question, just a statement, so I nod again.
“So, do you still want to go to my family dinner?” I ask, feeling like I already know the answer.
“I’m ready to go wherever you want, even if it’s to hell,” she answers, quoting that long ago girl who tried to use me. But Dani’s not using me. She’s letting me use her, willing to go war as my shield.
Ironically, I think my family might be the ones who need protection… from her.
“Okay, then let me tell you what to expect…”
CHAPTER 23
DANI
Iget up, dusting my ass off, and hold a hand out to Kyle to help him up. He gives me a one-sided smirk as he takes my hand, but he doesn’t let me pull him. Instead, he tugs me back down and I clumsily land on top of him, but he effortlessly breaks my fall, catching me in his arms. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips, cupping my jaw. “Thank you,” he breathes against my lips.
“For what? Not being a gold digger? That’s a pretty low bar you’ve got,” I tease, though there’s a hint of anger woven in the words. Not for Kyle, but for all those girls in his past.
“No, for being you. And for letting me be me.”
He kisses me again while I’m thinking that should be the bare minimum with a partner. And if there’s one thing Kyle deserves, it’s more than the bare fucking minimum. He’s a catch, and I know it, and it has absolutely nothing to do with finances.
We climb back on the bike, the rumble of the engine filling the silence, and Kyle takes off.
This is not what I thought he was asking for when he invited me on a ride today. I could tell something was weighing on his mind but never expected a show and tell of his ugly past and a reveal of what I guess is some big secret that his family has money, much less an invitation to meet his family. Especially a family that sounds as awful as he makes them sound.
I’m gonna give them a piece of my mind and tell them exactly what they’re missing out on with their amazing son.
Yesterday at Costco comes back to my mind, though. Janey seemed nice. I know she’s a sister-in-law, but she could’ve gone for my jugular and it would’ve been absolutely warranted. Instead, she smiled and was totally nice to me after I came up on them hotter than hell.
Okay, so Janey’s off the chopping block, but the rest of them, especially his dad, I’m gonna tell them exactly what I think about them.
I’m confident in that decision until Kyle turns into a gated opening in a big iron fence and pulls into what amounts to a parking lot in front of a house. It’s not actually a house, but I don’t know what to call it. What’s bigger than a mansion? It’s not a castle in style, but it’s probably bigger than some.
It’s a huge whatever-it-is with a fountain in the middle of the driveway, a front porch I could walk laps on, and a full turf yard. It looks like…
“You live in the White House?” I ask when I pull my helmet off and Kyle hangs it on the handlebars.
Sarcastically, he holds an arm out and says in a stiff as fuck accent, “Welcome to Harrington Estate.”
Estate. That’s what this kind of home is called. I’ve been to estate sales, but those were just when someone’s grandma or grandpa died and they were cleaning out the house. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard a house described that way, though.