Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Me:
My balls literally sucked back into my body when I read that.
Colby:
Funny, I didn’t know you still had them.
Me:
They’re huge.
I face-planted into my palm with a soft groan. That’s what I’d gone with? “They’re huge”? I watched in horror as she typed back.
Colby:
You know what they say about people when they’re trying to convince others of things…
Me:
I guess you’ll never know.
Colby:
Question, do you have sex with the lights off and your socks on every time or…
Me:
You’re baiting me.
Colby:
It’s killing you, admit it.
“Bro!”
A knock sounded at my door, and I almost jumped out of my skin. I quickly dropped my phone like I had been caught watching porn.
Banks hovered in the opening, grinning from ear to ear. “Who are you texting? Hot date? New woman? What’s she look like, let me see—”
“No!” I scrambled to my feet and fumbled with my phone before sliding it into my pocket. “Did you need something else?”
“Burgers.” He nodded. “I’m taking you to get burgers. And a beer. You need to let off some steam.” He walked around my desk and put his hands on my shoulders, shoving me out the door. “But I warn you, if you use your fork and knife to eat the burger, I’m stabbing you, mmmkay?”
“That was one time.”
“It was enough, buddy.” He patted me on the shoulder, and I followed him out the door, my phone vibrating with another text.
I wasn’t going to check. In fact, it brought me great joy that she’d be constantly checking to see if I’d responded.
“Whoever she is, I want to meet her one day…,” Banks said once we were in the elevator going down.
“Huh? Who?”
“The girl on the phone, the one who as of two seconds ago still had you grinning from ear to ear.”
I scoffed and literally had trouble hiding my smile, what the hell was wrong with me? “It was nobody.”
“Sure. OK. Nobody.” He hit me in the shoulder with his fist. “Nobody at all.”
SEVEN
Colby
If I overthought things the way I usually did, I might assume that Rip had been flirting with me and freaked himself out and that’s why he’d dropped the conversation.
But I knew better.
He’d truly meant what he said in that text. He wasn’t a flirt, he was all business, straight to the point, even though I was momentarily stunned at his ability to fire back responses so fast. Did the man even work?
I smiled to myself. At least he had given me an apology, or a Rip apology. In all honesty the texts had made my day until—
Well, until he felt the need to explain how big his balls were. I’d half expected him to follow up with some mathematical equation explaining just how huge.
God, I bet he even got hot when a woman used terms like tax compliance.
I shuddered.
“Aunt Colby?” Viera tugged on the hem of my hoodie. “I hungry.”
Shit.
I’d planned on going to the store but had been sidetracked by a toxic diaper, and other than cereal and fruit snacks there wasn’t really much in the house to eat.
As much as I didn’t want Rip judging me with that pompous sneer he had down perfectly, I pulled out my phone and DoorDashed some McDonald’s.
“Chicken nuggets OK?” At least I was good at one thing, right? Using food apps. I wondered if that would hold up in a Rip argument. I mean, could he order from four different apps at the same time while monitoring the driver’s progress and texting them specific instructions on where to leave said food?
I think not!
I set my cell faceup on the counter, then picked up Viera and sat her next to it. Her little legs dangled off the hard, sticky granite. “Your nuggets are getting made right now!”
She scrunched up her nose. “How they make nuggets, Aunt Colby?”
I gave her a serious look. “A nugget maker, of course.”
“Ohhhhhhh.” She nodded vigorously, her pretty brown hair grazing her shoulders. “What it look like?”
“Ummmm, like a chicken… stamp.” I winced. “But bigger! So they can make more than one at a time.”
There, that sounded like something McDonald’s would do, right?
Her eyes went wide as saucers. “They stamp the chickens?”
“Oh, sweetie! Don’t worry, the chickens are already dead.”
Her lower lip quivered.
“No, no, no, no.” I knew that look; it was the look of a three-year-old about to let loose. “Viera, I’m just kidding, the chickens are alive! They’re all alive on a farm, living happy and chirping and—”
“CHICKEN NUGGETS ARE ALIVE?” she shrieked.
Oh dear God.
The front door slammed just as Ben walked in and covered his ears. My only saving grace was that today was jujitsu, and it had been Jake’s mom’s turn to take them after school, then return Ben back home.
“Viera!” he yelled, throwing his gear across the hardwood floor. “Stop screaming!”
Now both kids were yelling.
And I was sweating—again.
The DoorDash guy was probably going to call the cops and report me to child services.