Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Fair is fair.
If she can boldly eavesdrop on my conversations, it’s only fair I mention what I overhead, too.
“Oh, just a trip.” She gestures to the pocket holding my phone. “Is he trying to convince you to go home?”
“What sort of trip?” I press her again.
She huffs out a sigh and folds her tanned arms. “A cruise, if you must know, Miss Nosy. A large group of us from the senior center and VA got together and set up a little getaway.”
“Really? To where?”
“Alaska.”
“Whoa, awesome choice!” Then I remember something critical. “Wait. Why were you trying to cancel it?”
“The dates no longer work for me.” She plants her hands on her hips. “So now are you gonna tell an old woman what he wanted or not?”
Fine, fine.
“He offered me a position back home. Creative Dance Director. Higher level, more pay, lots more respect...” Lifting a brow, so she knows I want the truth, I say, “When’s your cruise?”
“Director? Sounds impressive.”
“It is,” I admit, but I’m not about to let her off the hook. “Granny, when?”
“Next week,” she says, chin up, looking directly at me.
Next whaaa—?
Oh, no.
My heart drops.
“You’re trying to cancel it because of me,” I say numbly. “Because I’m here.”
“Mm-hmm. Exactly where you need to be, young lady,” she says firmly. “Now, enough yammering about phone calls. What do you want for breakfast?”
10
Goat Me Down (Faulkner)
Eggplant.
I glance at the two swollen, downright ugly purple beasts in the seat next to me.
That’s the best I can come up with? Hauling around a vegetable that’s become a stand-in for every big dick joke ever spoken in emojis?
Talk about fucked up excuses.
Still, I couldn’t think of a better reason to see Tory, and see her I must.
I barely slept a wink last night.
When I wasn’t tossing and turning, thinking about kissing her, I was dreaming about doing a whole lot more than tongue fencing.
A cold shower was a must when I woke up this morning, temperature cranked to Siberian chill.
Fuck.
I know. I shouldn’t have kissed her last night and scared her off.
I’d fought the urge for so long, swore it’d never happen. My best efforts weren’t enough.
I’d lost the battle and maybe the whole war on that damn Ferris wheel ride.
My self-control, definitely obliterated.
Tory’s lips were so soft, warm and sweet and supple, everything I always knew I’d find after giving her that peach namesake like a fool so many years ago. It’s like teenage me set a colossal trap for grown-up me.
Damn if I didn’t enjoy myself, though, consequences aside.
Once I’d started in on those strawberry lips, once I’d laid my hands on her like a man, once I’d thrust my tongue in her mouth, leaving zero doubt what I wanted to do with more than lips...
I couldn’t stop for nothing.
You don’t get between a kiss that becomes a force of nature.
A grizzly bear with a jetpack coming at us on that ride couldn’t have pried my lips off Tory Three Names.
Thank all that’s holy we were on the Ferris wheel then.
If it was solid ground instead, I’d still have her chained up hostage in my bed.
Reason number one thousand why recklessly kissing my childhood friend can never, ever happen again.
Of course, I can’t leave her hanging, thinking it was her fault.
Or something.
I don’t really know what chicks think when dudes like me put our mouths where they don’t belong.
All I do know is, last night, as soon as that Ferris wheel stopped, she’d wanted nothing to do with me.
It hurt to see her run, even if she did it quietly and politely the whole way back to her place, before she bolted for the house like I had rattlesnakes in my hair.
Distance was clearly her goal, and I can’t blame her.
I need to apologize.
It’s Tory Coffey. I can’t have her hating me forever over one jackass slip.
Dean’s pickup is still in the driveway, the same workhorse truck she uses for the goats, so I know she’s home.
Before I second-guess my pathetic purple excuse to come here again, I pull in, park, and grab the eggplants, carrying them like they’re grenades.
Granny answers the door with a cheery smile.
“Good morning, Romeo.” Her grin fades the second she pushes open the screen door and sees what I’m holding. “What the hell? What in God’s name do you think you’re doing here with devil’s fruit?”
“Making up for the one you had to throw away last night.” I hold up the eggplants.
Her glare knifes right through me.
“Thank you, Quinn,” Tory says, stepping up shyly behind Granny. “That’s so nice of you.”
At least there’s a smile on her face, but her eyes look somber.
She reaches around Granny and takes the eggplants gingerly like they’re baby animals.
“Ohhh, you picked some good ones. We’ll have eggplant parmesan for sure tonight!”
Granny’s eyes widen. I can practically see the flames shooting out as she grabs my arm.