Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“Wifey and I were in the neighborhood and I thought I’d pop in and check on how y’all are doing before I start my new post in Chicago.”
He lived five states away. The ‘in the neighborhood’ excuse was as believable as a Vegas stripper’s tits. He obviously wanted to check and ensure my new client was still in a favorable mental state. Side note: the world would be a slightly better place if men would stop calling their spouses wifey.
“Are you the Whitfield in Lockwood and Whitfield?” Princess Thorne inquired behind my back.
“Yes, ma’am. And you must be Hallie!”
“The one and only.” Brat shouldered past me, prancing about in her ridiculous robe to shake his hand. Tom took her palm in his and squeezed firmly. I waited for them to get it over with so I could slam the door in his face.
“You know your car was voted Most Polluting by most car magazines last year? Your Lamborghini burns a gallon of gasoline for every eighteen miles traveled. And it can’t be family-friendly.”
Tom shot me a look. I shook my head. “She’s a tree hugger.”
“The Lamborghini is a rental.” He turned to her.
“Promise to return it to the agency and get a Tesla and I’ll welcome you in.”
“You got yourself a deal.” Tom laughed.
Brat opened the door invitingly, offering him a little bow. “My kingdom is yours then, Mr. Whitfield.”
His laugh intensified. What the hell was happening?
“Actually, I’m with the family. We’re just passing by, see. I promised my kids I’d take them to Disneyland.”
Disney World was closer to Chicago.
“Traffic to Anaheim is insane this time of the day. Your car will singlehandedly cause a volcano to erupt. Come on in, all of you.” Brat opened the door wider, ignoring me. “We’ve got pastries. I’ll make smoothies for the kids. It’ll be fun.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Tom turned around and signaled Lisa to get out and bring the two terrors with her.
“Uncle Ramb-son!” one exclaimed. One of them was named Silas, the other Saint.
I’d never heard more white bread names in my life.
The twins ran, tackling my legs and hugging them firmly. I had no idea why. I’d never made any effort to be nice to them. I didn’t actively scowl when they came around—a refreshing change from my usual behavior toward humans—but that was the extent of my relationship with them. I did buy them birthday presents. Mainly because they were born on April Fool’s, so it was easy to remember the date.
I could see Brat was looking at me with a fresh expression, one full of curiosity and delight. I imagined she was having a Beauty and the Beast moment, where the ugly-ass beast feeds the birds in the snow. Little did she know, if I had birds in my palm, they’d be rotisserie chicken before the stupid song was over.
“Ransom, it is good to see you again.” Lisa rose on her toes to kiss both my cheeks.
Lisa was a decent woman. But she also constantly tried to coerce me into family dinners, blind dates, and other social functions.
I turned around to face Tom. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He bumped his shoulder against mine, dropping his voice. “We need to take a little trip.”
I rolled my shoulders. He’d kept it vague for a reason. “I’ll grab my stuff.”
“Grab your kit, too. I’ve a feeling we’re dealing with some serious shit.”
I went upstairs to get my gun (I always carried, and it was always hot), cell phone, and bag. When I got back down, I found Brat handing the little monsters two pink smoothies while having a heated conversation with Lisa about curling irons. I’d always detested the human need to fill silence with mundane small talk, but I especially hated how the Thorne Princess was seemingly winning over the small handful of people in my life.
“…and so,” Brat concluded to Lisa, who stared at her, eyes like two full moons, “the real secret to perfect waves is to curl each section in the opposite direction. Like—” She lifted her hands and took pieces of Lisa’s blonde hair to demonstrate. “If I curl this part inward, I’ll curl the one next to it outward. And you have to keep them tight until you’re completely done, then set them with hairspray before gently brushing. Do you have, like, twenty minutes? I can show you.”
“She does,” I said grimly, motioning to Tom to get his ass up from the stool and join me at the door. “We’re leaving. Lisa will keep an eye on you.”
“Leaving? Really?” Brat perked up. The sparkle in her eyes was telling. She loathed me.
I smirked cruelly. “Don’t look so sad. It’s only for a couple hours.”
“A girl can dream.”
“Can she? Creativity is not your strong suit,” I volleyed back.
“And you know this conclusively about me from what, an impression based on these last couple days?” She parked a hand over her waist, cocking up an eyebrow.