The Wrong Number (Bad For Me #4) Read Online Lindsey Hart

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy Tags Authors: Series: Bad For Me Series by Lindsey Hart
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
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“Can I get you anything?” Atlas asks gently, and I realize I haven’t taken a single thing.

I spring into action, grabbing the first dish I see, which happens to be pickles, and dumping a whole pile onto my plate. “No! Sorry!”

“That’s okay. Most people are gobsmacked when they have the misfortune of dealing with more than two of us at a time. Or just Granny by herself. Ask Ayana.”

“Who’s Ayana?”

“My other brother’s girlfriend. They don’t live here. Granny took her to a gun club the first time they officially met and showed off her gun skills.”

“O-oh?” Somehow I truly can imagine his granny firing guns and enjoying it. She’s not the average granny, that’s for sure.

“Do you want some chicken with those pickles?” Atlas’ granny throws two drumsticks onto my plate before I can respond.

“I think that only applies to sauces,” Orion informs her. “Like, if someone smothers their fries in ketchup, you say, do you want some fries with that ketchup?”

“Potatoes with those pickles?” I get a big scoop before I can protest.

I’m starting to think it wasn’t so wise to sit on this side of Atlas’ granny. She’s turning my plate into a mountain. She adds carrots before I can ask for them, then a huge scoop of green beans.

Atlas chuckles, even though he’s shaking his head. His eyes aren’t storm clouds right now. They’re as soft as the buttery soft jeans he has on. He leans in and whispers near my ear, “Just eat what you can and leave the rest.”

“Oh, okay.” Looking down at my plate, I try the chicken first, which is excellent. Then, I slowly move on to sampling the rest, and everything is so good that I forget to be nervous.

The banter around the table ceases as everyone dives hungrily into the meal and doesn’t resurface until plates are being scraped.

“Anyone left room for pie?” Lennox asks hopefully. “No?” he says after half a second’s pause. “Good. Then I’ll spirit it off to my room for later.”

“You certainly will not. We’re all having pie. I’ll go get it.”

And Atlas’ granny does just that. Holding a humungous pie, she comes back to the small dining room that’s joined to the living room but separated from the kitchen with a wall—an odd makeup, but then, the house isn’t that modern, and who am I to talk about open space floor plans? My house was built in approximately the year thirteen hundred and eighty-two. Okay, no, it wasn’t, but that would have been much cooler, actually.

“Looks good, Granny!” Orion licks his lips. “Was waiting all day for this.”

“Back, beast,” Lennox fake growls. “You can have just one moderate slice. You can’t eat the whole thing.”

“There are people to share with,” Atlas tells his twin. “So, sorry, no Orion-sized pieces today.”

“His plan is to cut one small slice out and then take the rest of the pie and leave that,” Cass explains. “That’s an Orion-sized piece.”

“Have seconds on the chicken,” Atlas’ granny suggests as she sets the pie down. She gestures to the pile of bones on the chicken platter, which is all that’s left.

Orion rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Granny. Appreciate the thought.”

“Potatoes?” She indicates to the empty bowl.

“How very thoughtful,” Orion mutters.

“Beans?”

That bowl is empty too.

“Fine,” Orion grumbles. “I’ll have a normal-sized piece of pie, then take myself into the kitchen to raid the fridge for ice cream. How’s that?”

“Very magnanimous of you.” Atlas’ granny’s lips twitch as she slices the pie into huge pieces.

I get one put on my plate before anyone else, and while my mouth waters at the cherry goodness oozing out of the flaky crust with the little granules of sugar sprinkled on top, I know I can’t possibly eat all of it.

“Don’t worry. If you can’t finish, Orion will be happy to clean up. He’s like a mangy god when it comes to dessert.”

“I’m not half as bad as Lennox. He’s the one who thinks pie brought him and Cass together.”

“It kind of did,” Cass points out, not in the least bit flustered. “I mean, after he kidnapped me and all—” She trails off fast, and all noise ceases in the room. “Uh, I mean, he…we were role-playing. I…I don’t mean actual kidnapping. I mean, it was kind of a mix-up. It was just…I…Shit, sorry.”

Atlas’ granny finishes carving up the pie and passes out the plates in silence. As soon as everyone has pie in front of them, slices that are now basically kind of off limits because the atmosphere in the room is practically as uncomfortable as falling into a surprise snake pit, something a heck of a lot colder than trepidation slithers up my spine like said snakes.

I glance at Atlas, and when I notice him gnawing on his bottom lip, sitting perfectly frozen otherwise with his eyes locked on his granny, I know something isn’t right.


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