Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
I practically float home, where I quickly send Elle a Facetime request. This is something I need my bestie for, even if it’s awkward that it’s about her dad. “Hey, Tiff,” Elle says, looking chipper despite the time difference between us. “How’s your Sunday?”
“I need you to pretend this is about some random guy for this conversation, ’kay?” I tell her without preamble, and Elle lifts an eyebrow, knowing exactly who I’m talking about. “We’ll call him Kyle.”
“Ew, no. Jason.”
Worse, that’s the guy I dated that smelled like Fritos. How about . . . Daniel . . . Radcliffe . . . Harry! “Let’s talk about this imaginary guy, Harry.”
Elle goes full on Brit, which is getting a lot better than it used to be, and gives me huge eyes. “Is ’arry Pohtah going to give me a sock?”
“Keep it up, and he just might,” I growl, and Elle grins. “Okay . . . anyway, Harry and I went out.”
Elle’s mouth drops open in surprise, but she recovers quickly. “Go, Tiffany!”
“And more,” I continue. “It was yesterday morning, and I was out with Harper to help her with her bridal thing . . . oh, Ace’s proposal went well, and by some miracle of persuasion, he actually got Harper to agree, so they’re getting married.”
“Bitch, you could have started with that! That’s awesome!”
“Sorry. Anyway, we were out doing wedding planning stuff when suddenly, Harry appeared and . . . well, we talked a bit, went to the beach, and from there to a hotel.”
Elle’s voice stops. “Now, when you say to a hotel, are we talking to get some much-needed rest, or . . .?”
“Well, we rested after going more, ahem, full-on,” I admit. “I mean, there was wand action and patronuses . . . patroni? What’s the plural of that? Because there were multiple of those. Really good multiples.”
“Eek! Stop!” Elle protests, dropping the pretense. “Now I’m picturing you and Harry Potter, and that’s almost as bad as you and my dad. Skip that part and tell me the rest.”
I laugh lightly. I wanted to mess with her that way. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Anyway, we did stay the night, and then we spent all day driving back today. We took the long way, got some apricots, did some sightseeing, and just . . . talked. Elle, it was awesome.”
“Wow,” she breathes.
“So, that does sound awesome, right? I’m not reading too much into it?” I’m scared she’s going to tell me I’m jumping the gun, and maybe equally nervous she’s going to say I’m spot on. “Because I’m like, totally head over heels, but I need to know if it’s hormones or if I’m seeing things right.”
“Normally, I’d say no, you’re not reading too much into it.” Her words are slow and sound carefully selected. “But . . . Harry . . . is set in his ways, and I’m not sure if I can make an accurate judgment of what he’s thinking or what he’s going to do. That’s usually my specialty, but I’m a little out of touch here.”
I can get that. I mean, she is in England, for fuck’s sake. “But we‘re still okay? I mean, you said you were fine with me and . . . Harry. But if something has changed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“Yes, I’m okay. I mean, he’s my dad, so it’s just weird and gross.”
I think back to the intense, back cracking orgasms of last night and smile wistfully. “He is def neither of those things. He was—”
“Ah, ah, ah!” Elle protests, trying to clap her hands over her ears, but she’s got the phone in one so the screen ends up bouncing all around. I can still hear her, though. “How would you like it if I was talking sexy stuff about Ace?”
“One, Colton would smack your ass until you couldn’t sit for a week,” I tease. “Two, he is ridiculously gone for Harper and she is just as gone for him. Three, my brother is hot as fuck now, healthy and finally happy.”
Elle laughs and grins evilly. “Then you know what’s next, Tiff. I double-dog dare you . . .”
Chapter 17
Daniel
I’m just finishing my green smoothie prep when my phone rings and I see that it’s a call from overseas. Always happy to talk to my baby girl, I prop the phone against the napkin holder on the table and hit the pickup icon. “Elle, it’s great to—”
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” she hisses at me, her eyes full of fire. “I mean, really, Dad? My best friend?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath. I can only guess how Elle heard about my weekend with Tiffany, but this has to be dealt with. “Elle, Tiffany and I—”
“Blah, blah, blah, no details!” Elle exclaims, clapping her hands over her ears. “I mean . . . why, Dad?”