Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“I was impressed,” confirmed Sherri. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
I stared between them, wondering whether Painter could help me dispose of two bodies without leaving any evidence.
Probably.
“Give me my phone.”
Jess handed me one of the frosted pink monstrosities instead.
“Join the dark side, Melanie. We have cake.”
“I’m not going out with him—and fuck you, because that cake’s pink and I hate pink.”
“You don’t have to go on the date,” Sherri said quickly. “Of course, it will probably be awkward as hell to back out at this point. Really hurt his feelings, you know? He thinks you’re interested. And be fair, Mel. He’s cute.”
I stared at the cupcake, picturing the security guard. Aaron. Aaron Waits. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and Sherri was right—he really was cute. Not as big and tough as Painter, but not all clean-cut and shiny like that damned dentist, either.
“Don’t take this as a sign that what you did is okay . . .” I said finally, reaching for the cupcake.
“Of course not,” Jess said, trying hard not to gloat and failing miserably. “It’s that terrible impulse-control problem of mine, you know? So hard to overcome. I’ll totally talk to my therapist about it.”
“Don’t you dare pull that shit on me,” I said, biting down into the pink monstrosity. It was really good—there was just the right ratio of frosting to cake. I hated it when the frosting wasn’t thick enough. “You haven’t been to therapy for years, and you’re perfectly capable of controlling your impulses when you want to.”
It was true, and it would’ve sounded a whole lot better if I hadn’t sprayed crumbs along with my words.
“Ta-da!” Izzy shouted, running into the kitchen. She had on her newest princess dress, this one bright green, thank God. She looked like a blonde princess Merida from Brave, complete with the corkscrew curls. Seeing as Painter and I both had straight hair, I’d never quite figured that one out, but it was adorable.
“You look great!” Sherri said, pulling her up and swinging her around. “Why are you all dressed up? Do you have a ball to go to?”
“Nope, Daddy’s gonna teach me how to shoot a bow and arrow,” she said proudly. “I’m all ready. He says a girl needs to know how to defend herself in this world.”
“He’s weaponizing the child?” Jess asked in a low voice. “Why am I not surprised by this?”
I nodded, wishing I had a bow and arrow. I wasn’t quite sure who I’d rather use it on—Jessica or Painter.
Or maybe Sherri.
I just hoped I wouldn’t need to use it on Aaron.
WEDNESDAY NIGHT
“Are you sure it’s okay?” I asked Loni. “I feel weird asking you to watch her while I’m on a date, because tonight was supposed to be about work. I don’t want to impose on you.”
Loni rolled her eyes.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Reese has some club thing happening, anyway. He won’t be home until late. And I’m happy you’re going out—you’re young. You should be having fun, and you know how much I love playing grandma. And Reese will probably get up early with her and make pancakes. Definitely a winning situation for me.”
That made me smile, because for a man who complained so much about being surrounded by girls, Reese was suspiciously available whenever I needed a sitter. Izzy had him wrapped around her little finger and she knew it.
God help me once she was a teenager.
The roar of a Harley came from outside, and I shot Loni a quick look.
“Was Reese coming over?” I asked. She shook her head.
“Painter?” she suggested.
“I’m not expecting him.”
“Daddy!” Izzy shouted, running into the living room. “I can hear his motorcycle.”
She jumped up onto the couch and looked out through the front window. “That’s not Daddy.”
Leaning over her, I peered out to see Aaron—my date—climbing off a big, black Harley.
“Ah crap,” I muttered. “He’s a biker.”
Loni and I shared a quick look. She knew all about Painter’s “no bikers” rule, although she thought it was bullshit. I knew this because she’d told me more than once.
“They’ve got a club thing tonight,” she said quickly. “You should be just fine.”
Hopefully.
Aaron rang the doorbell and I went to answer it, forcing myself to smile. This whole thing felt awkward and uncomfortable, like I was lying to him. The pleased look on his face didn’t help, either.
“You ready?” he asked. “I brought my bike—the ride up to Callup is gorgeous this time of year. We’ll stop along the way and eat dinner at the Bitter Moose. Have you ever been there?”
“No,” I admitted. “Never even heard of it.”
“You’ll love it,” he said, and something about his tone put me off. Maybe it was the way he didn’t even bother to tell me what kind of food they had, or ask if I wanted to go. “And afterward we’ll hit a party with some of my friends. You look great, by the way, but I think you should change.”