Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Why didn’t the town help them when their mother died?” Daisy asked, her voice sharp and a little resentful. “Did you know the police picked them up after they’d spent all night in the hospital with their dying mother and detained them for a day, thinking they were the ones who wrecked Mr. Richards’s store?”
Daff’s heart seized in her chest at the thought of what an ordeal that must have been for both boys. How cruel.
“I had no idea the boys had been suspected of that.” Their mother sounded appalled. “I heard about the vandalism a couple of days after the fact. At that point they had no suspects. It must have been after they questioned and cleared the Carlisle boys.”
“So are you and Spencer finally hooking up, Daffy?” Lia asked.
“Don’t call me that,” Daff said irritably. “And what do you mean, finally?”
“Just that the guy’s been trying for years.”
“And years,” Daisy added with a nod.
“He has?” Their mother looked startled by the information.
“Yep, he’s had a crush on her since high school.”
“He used to send her poems,” Daisy added, and Lia giggled.
“Oh my gosh, I forgot about that,” Lia said. “‘Daffodil. Tell me you will . . .’”
“‘Be mine. Your smile is like gold and like diamonds your eyes do shine,’” Daisy continued. She grabbed Lia’s hand and they went in for the big finish together.
“‘I’ll love you forever and forget you never.’”
They collapsed against each other and screamed with laughter while Daff glared at them and their mother smiled in delight.
“Oh my, how sweet,” Millicent said once the cackles had died down. Daff was less than impressed with her sisters for bringing up the poetry. They’d teased her relentlessly about it at the time, and she couldn’t believe that they’d actually gotten their hands on one long enough to memorize it.
“Do you remember that, Daff? All those poems?” Lia asked.
“Of course I remember it,” she grumbled. “It wasn’t that long ago. And there’s nothing going on between Spencer and me, so can we please focus on the task at hand? We have under three months to plan this thing and the clock is ticking, ladies.”
That got them all refocused immediately, and Daff heaved a silent sigh of relief when they all started looking at color and fabric samples again.
“That’s the fourth easy shot you’ve missed tonight. What’s going on with you?” Mason asked as he lined up his own shot and sank yet another ball. At this point, Spencer might as well stand back and enjoy the show, because Mason wasn’t going to let him in with another chance. Spencer rarely lost at pool and he’d known—with his atrocious lack of form—that it would be only a matter of time before Mason figured out something was up.
He watched as his brother lined up yet another perfect shot and allowed his thoughts to drift back to Daff. He had a raging case of blue balls and had barely been able to focus at work today. Even an intense wank session in the shower just before coming out tonight hadn’t done much to take the edge off his horniness.
He thought back to the prim thank-you text she’d sent him earlier, accompanied by a selfie of her licking the hot sauce from the homemade burrito off her fingers. Like she didn’t know exactly the effect that picture would have on him.
He barely swallowed back a groan now.
“I’ve been instructed to ask you how many groomsmen you think you’ll have.”
“Instructed, is it? Daff running the show?”
“Only as much as I’ll let her.” He thought back to how he had kept her hovering on the brink of orgasm for nearly half an hour, then flushed—grateful for the low light in Ralphie’s pub that disguised both flush and instant hard-on—at the entirely inappropriate memory.
“And it’s a valid question. I need to know how many people to plan for.” He willed his dick to go down and was happy when he managed to wrangle some control over the unruly boner.
“What’s the rush? It’s three months away.”
“Apparently that’s nowhere near enough time to plan a wedding and all the flash and fuckery that goes along with it.”
“Hah? I’m beginning to get that.”
“So? Any idea?”
“Yeah. You’re my best man, with Chris and Sam as groomsmen.” Christién was one of Mason’s modeling friends—now a trained chef with a restaurant in the area—and Sam Brand was one of his army buddies, as well as his former business partner. Spencer hadn’t met either man yet, but he’d heard that Sam had saved his brother’s life—and vice versa—more than a few times.
“You can’t have just three guys at your stag party, Mase.”
“I have three more ex-army buddies flying in, and there’s also my future father-in-law.”
“You’re inviting Dr. McGregor? Man, what if I wanted to hire a stripper?”
“Fuck, Spence. No strippers . . . Daisy would kill me.”