Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I wanted to go kiss Nailyah Kingston on the freaking face. When she cut her eyes to me with her back to Lula Mae, she winked. She was in my list of favorites. Top five.
“Do I pour these in now?” she asked Dovie, holding up the marshmallows.
Dovie nodded, and I looked back over at Lula Mae. She was glaring at the pot as if it had offended her. When she realized I was watching her, she plastered on a fake smile again.
“Annette will think differently,” she said with a triumphant look. As if telling Storm’s mother on me was a win for her.
Were we in elementary school still?
I started to say something I probably shouldn’t when the door chimed. Storm was here. Her face lit up at the sound, and the bitch set down her yogurt that she’d barely touched, then began walking toward the hallway that led to the foyer.
What, was she going to throw herself into his arms again?
My hands fisted at my sides, and I refused to go see what she did. I wasn’t playing games with her. Storm was with me. He wanted me. She was bordering on pathetic.
When she was gone, Nailyah leaned over toward me. “Ignore her. She’s just bitter because she thought Storm was gonna eventually marry her. You are the first real threat she’s had.”
Whoa … marry? Did Storm know this? He had definitely made it sound like they’d kissed as kids and nothing more. But she was an adult now.
I heard their voices, and I went over to get a baking dish for the marshmallow and Rice Krispies mixture that Dovie was mixing together.
I wasn’t taking her bait. I would not. But marry? That wasn’t nothing. I was missing something.
Because Storm lies.
Ugh! I hated that I thought that.
“That’s enough,” I heard Storm say in a hard tone.
I heard Lula Mae speaking under her breath just outside the door, saying something to him.
“What’s going on in here?” he said in his normal voice as he walked into the room while leaving Lula Mae talking to herself now.
I held out the baking dish. “Rice Krispies Treats,” I told him.
“Hot damn. I came home at the right time,” he said, walking over to me and taking the dish from me, then pulling me close to him.
His gaze studied me as if he was looking for any signs of my being upset. That sent off a red flag. Why would I be angry? Unless the marriage thing had come up …
“Were you gonna tell me you were making them? Or eat them all?”
“Eat them all,” I replied.
A crooked grin touched his mouth. “That’s cold.” He lowered his mouth to mine and pressed a kiss to my lips, then let me go.
“Give me the baking dish, Casanova. I need to butter it,” Nailyah told him, taking the dish away from him.
He looked back at me. “I fucking love Rice Krispies Treats.”
“Well, I had planned to make you a peanut butter pie, but I didn’t get around to reading the recipe,” I admitted.
He licked his lips. “I love peanut butter pie, but I’d rather have the pie between your legs.”
“Ohmigod, you did not just say that,” Nailyah squealed, covering her ears.
He glanced over at her, then back at me. “Oops. I wasn’t supposed to say that in front of them, huh?”
I couldn’t not laugh. He’d done that on purpose. Lula Mae must have told him I’d talked about sex with him in front of his sister. This was his way of letting me and her know that he didn’t give a shit.
“Is that what you needed Dovie to read to you? The peanut butter pie recipe?” Lula Mae asked, walking farther into the room from sulking at the door.
I stiffened as everyone in the room looked at me. I could lie, but she would know I was lying. She felt like she had something over my head. I didn’t like that. She wasn’t going to have that.
“Yes, it was.”
Dovie’s eyes widened at my admission. She knew I didn’t tell people that.
This was a lesson for her. When it’s not your secret anymore, admit it. Otherwise, you’re handing someone ammunition to be used against you.
Lula Mae placed her hand on her chest. “Oh, I wasn’t being serious. I mean”—she smiled brightly—“you’re what, twenty-nine, thirty? And you can’t read? How awful.”
All right, bitch. I was twenty-five, almost twenty-six, and I still got carded at bars.
“I can read. But I have dyslexia, so a lot of words at once can get tricky for me. And I’m twenty-five.” I added, “Not as old as you just yet.” I knew she was my age or younger, but I was giving it right back to her.
Her eyes flared angrily until they shifted to Storm’s, and I saw her expression falter. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she gushed, blinking as her eyes began to water. “I was just … I thought … I mean, I wanted to teach you … if it was reading you needed help with.”