Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
She stills me with a soft hand to my forearm. “Please be serious.”
She turns toward the red-painted front door when I slip my fingers into hers with a reassuring squeeze… and a dirty whisper in her ear. “Think they’ll be able to smell you on me?”
Her tentative smile is snuffed from her expression like a candle blown out.
“Mimi, come on.” I glance at the large bay window of my parents' terrace house. “It’s just my lot in there.” I note the twitch of the curtain and think better of pointing it out. It might be weird, but I find I don’t give a fuck if we’re being watched. Maybe I should just kiss her and be done with all speculation. I stifle a sigh at the idiotic thought. She’s really not down for that.
“Exactly. Your family. Your mom was so lovely when I called her when I was looking for work. And Heather was so cool on Friday. They can’t find out, Whit. I don’t want them to think badly of me.”
I tilt my head to the side, almost floored by the needy words that shoot from my mouth. “Am I important to you, too.”
“You will always be important to me,” she says soberly as her hand falls away. “More than you’ll ever know.” She slides the soft sweater over her bared shoulder which is probably a good move because I want to kiss her there. Let’s face it, I want to kiss her everywhere. “I don’t want them to pick up on any vibe between us. It wouldn’t do for them to get ahead of themselves.”
Mimi is more astute than I’ve given her credit for. I’m beginning to think it’s me—that I am a great big fucking idiot. Why would I have a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball? How did this get so complicated over the space of a weekend?
She accused me of possessing sexual voodoo, but maybe it’s more a case of her magical pussy? I’m a fucking idiot because Mimi is way more than that.
“Look, don’t worry.” I ease out a careful breath. “I can behave myself.”
She slides me a look that’s hard to decipher. “Ah hell, the flowers!” She pivots, then pivots back. “Open the car, would you, please?”
I pull out my keys, but before I can offer to get them, she’s already off down the garden path. I slide them back into my pocket at the same time as the front door creaks open.
“That all looked very cozy.”
I turn to the sound of El’s voice and find him leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded, like a cheap soap opera villain.
“I didn’t know you like to watch.” He frowns at my words. “I saw the curtains twitching.”
His expression twists before his mild answer carries across the space between us. “What am I supposed to be watching?”
I glance at the flower bed. Purple crocuses and daffodils, ornamental grasses waking from a long winter slumber. I inhale a deep breath and paste on my do I give a fuck face. “You’ve been panting after Mimi since she got here,” I say, very obviously misunderstanding his meaning.
“Hey, Mimi.”
“Oh, hey, El.” Mimi’s happy expression peeks above an explosion of flowers. “Good to see you.”
No, it’s a fucking ball ache.
“You, too. Where’d you go Friday night?”
“Are we allowed in, or what?” I mutter pugnaciously, remembering about a second too late that I’m not supposed to reach for Mimi’s hand. She shoves the bouquet at me as though that’s what I’m after. I almost take them, too. “You give them to Polly.”
“But you paid for them.”
“I’ll dock the money out of your pay,” I grumble, turning away.
Of course, El clocks the entire exchange. Tough shit he doesn’t look too happy about it.
28
WHIT
“Oh, my goodness!” Polly’s enthusiasm knows no bounds as she takes the proffered bouquet. “How beautiful, but you really shouldn’t have.”
The sun streams through the bifold doors sparking off the stone countertops and white shaker kitchen units. The kitchen had a makeover a year ago and a big extension. I offered to buy Mum a new place, but she said somewhere else wouldn’t be the same because the walls wouldn’t be filled with so many memories. If you ask me, that’s reason enough to want to move, but not for her. At least she let me pay to renovate the place. When dad died, it was half home, half building site. The man was always tinkering with something.
“They’re just a little something,” Mimi replies, “just to say thank you for the invite.”
“The summons, more like,” I mutter, resisting the monkey noises I thought to make as I lift the carving knife from the chopping board. Whacking off the end of the beef joint resting on it, I tear into it with my teeth. “Mmm. ’S good,” I mouth around the tender piece.