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)
Honestly, she’d be perfect for him, or at least the old him who didn’t have kids and preferred everything perfect. “I really do need to get going.”
“Oh, sure.” She moved out of the way, her smile wide. “Will Rip be at the office tomorrow?” I frowned. If they were dating, wouldn’t he have told her that? Her eyes flickered away briefly. “My phone’s been acting up, so my texts keep bouncing back, otherwise I’m sure he would have let me know…”
She cleared her throat and looked away. Ten bucks said she was lying, but I had no proof other than the way she refused to make eye contact.
It was my turn to offer a smug smile. “No, actually. You get me all week! I’m sure he’ll get back to you, right? In the meantime get that phone taken care of, yeah?”
Her smile fell and then, “Sure, of course!”
“Great! Have a good night!”
I know it’s wrong and bad and yay women supporting women, but I did feel a sense of excitement and maybe a tiny rush wash over me as I skipped toward Rip’s car and got into it. My high school self was preening while my adult self told me to calm down and try not to back up into another car or a tree. I started it just fine and pulled out of the parking lot, then gave her a little wave as I left and made my way toward the house.
It was probably the first time in my life that I’d felt like I had something over Heather Donnelly.
Let her be gorgeous and tall.
But right now?
I was driving her crush’s car.
And there was nothing she could do about it but stare and wonder what would happen when I went home to him.
I actually laughed out loud. Yeah, clearly it had been a long day, because the joke was on me since the minute I got there it would be like hell had been unleashed in that place. Actually I was betting on it and needed it to be like that. If he had laminated schedules on the fridge and baked homemade cupcakes in advance just to test out his recipe—I was going to murder him.
I clenched the steering wheel and mulled over the whole Heather situation and the fact that Banks wanted to fake date me to make Rip jealous. Frowning, I took the corner and waited at the stoplight. Why would Banks suggest something like that if Rip was actually interested in Heather? Unless Banks was right and Rip did have feelings for me, and she was lying? The entire conversation with her was suspicious.
Suddenly Banks’s idea didn’t seem so horrible. I’d pined after Rip for half my adult life. If I didn’t try to see if those feelings were reciprocated now, then when?
As I pulled Rip’s Benz into our subdivision and then into our driveway, I willed the universe to show me a sign that he was struggling with the kids and needed help. Come on, where was an SOS when you needed one? It’s not that I wanted him to fail, I just wanted him to see what it was like to be in over your head and want to day drink in the pantry. Was that really too much to ask?
Damn. The house looked normal.
Rip wasn’t outside crying.
Ben wasn’t setting Stu on fire.
And Viera wasn’t wailing about birds.
Hmmmmm.
I pulled into the driveway and grabbed my things, then slowly walked toward the door, pressing my ear against it to listen for the sound of chaos inside.
Only there was no chaos.
No screaming, just the background noise of the nightly news.
“What are you doing?” neighbor Mrs. Harris called loudly. “Do I need to call the police?”
This woman.
“No, Mrs. Harris!” I waved. “Just checking something—”
The door swung open.
Rip stood there wearing a perfectly clean white shirt. Odd. Black sweatpants and honest-to-God black-rimmed glasses that literally brought every hot-nerd fantasy I’d ever had to life.
“You just going to spy on me or actually come in?” His eyes narrowed.
Then my eyes narrowed.
His narrowed further.
“I’m suspicious,” I said, walking in after him, not staring at his perfect body as he gave me his delicious back and walked into the kitchen. “Something smells good!”
“I cooked.” He said it so simply I wanted to smack him across the face with the nearest blunt object. “Followed some casserole recipe.”
“Of course you did.” I set my things on the kitchen counter, my eyes taking in the mostly clean living room and kitchen.
Other than a few dishes in the sink, everything looked perfect. As if Rip had balanced stay-at-home-dad life like a pro.
Still not trusting it, I walked over to the fridge.
It was full.
Just as I was about to admit semidefeat, something caught my eye. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” He crossed his arms.
“That coming out of the pantry?” I pointed again at part of what looked like a flag poking out from under the pantry door.