Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“I can cheers to that. To not needing a man.” She gives me a cringing smile. “But it’s okay to maybe… want one.”
My eyebrows shoot up at that as I clink my glass with hers, and we tap the bottoms on the island, then swallow the ounce of clear liquor. Mia sticks out her tongue and hisses, and I take a swig of my cocktail. “And what man are we speaking of that you might want, sister mine?”
“Talon Mayson,” she singsongs, sipping her vodka and cranberry.
“The guy who’s been stalking you at the dealership since literally protecting you comic-book-superhero style during the tornado?” I prompt.
She nods. “The one and only.” A pause. “He asked me to go on a date with him this coming Saturday.”
“And what did you say?” I ask, leaning down to prop my elbows on the countertop and resting my chin on my fists, blinking and giving her my undivided attention.
“Well, we kind of got…. Oh, shit! I forgot!” She jumps up from the stool, grabs her keys out of her purse, and I giggle as she wobbles, making her way to the front door in a not-straight line.
A few moments later, she returns, locking the door behind her. In her hand is a to-go box, and when she gets back up on her stool, she opens the lid, and before me is a stack of chocolate chip pancakes. “I was at dinner with Talon when you called earlier. He told me I should bring these home for you.”
I look from the pancakes up to my sister then back down again, my mouth open in astonishment. “That man is a saint. Marry him now,” I tell her, and I pull out the drawer next to me and grab a fork. I cut a triangle into the stack and take a bite, moaning at the carby goodness.
Mia giggles then shakes her head. “Which reminds me, I promised I’d let him know when I got home safe,” she adds, taking her phone out and tapping along the screen while I take a bite of pancakes then wash it down with the rest of my cocktail. “Shit. It died while it was sending.” She shrugs. “I’ll message him before bed.”
“Wait… you were at dinner with Talon? I thought you said he asked you out for Saturday,” I point out.
“It was really just stopping for food on our way back to the dealership. Long story short, we went on a test drive, and while we were out, he got a call that his dad was in the hospital. We drove straight there, and I went and traded the Jeep he was testing for his actual truck. I waited there once I got back to the hospital, just to make sure he was okay. When he came down, he offered to take me back to work to get my car but stopped for food on the way. And here I am.” She shrugs.
“And I totally ruined it. God. Will I never cease to stop sucking?” I pout, leaving my chin resting on one fist while I use the other to pour two more shots.
“Hey, wait a second. How did this game turn into only me answering questions? This was supposed to be my chance to get some answers out of you, big sis.”
“The squirrels,” I tell her, widening my eyes at her for emphasis before sliding one of the shot glasses back over to her. “Ask away.”
She looks at the glass warily but then raises it in salute. “To being open and honest, not just sisters but best friends,” she says, and I get a little choked up that she said out loud the same thing I was thinking only minutes ago.
“Not just sisters but best friends,” I repeat, and we clink our glasses, tap the bottoms on the countertop, and shoot them.
“Good. Now. When was the last time you had sex?” she asks, and I really do choke then as I try to swallow some of my second cocktail. She cackles, taking a swig from her tumbler and wiggling on her barstool in glee.
I shake my head at her. “You couldn’t ease me into it? You had to go straight for the naughty bits, huh?”
“No lube,” she adds, and I burst out laughing when her hand slaps over her mouth, her eyes going wide.
“Well alrighty. Um… well, let’s do some math, shall we?” I prompt, and she nods.
“Use those college algebra hours!” she declares, and I chuckle.
“Okay, Mike and I have been separated seven months.”
“Yep,” she says, holding up seven fingers. “And before then, we hadn’t had sex iiiinnn…” I look to the ceiling, trying to remember the last time he and I were actually intimate, doing my best to keep the image of Winston out of my head, because technically we didn’t have sex. Dry humping until I had the most spectacular orgasm of my life is not sex, so technically I did not have sex with a man who is still married and not legally separated. So there. “If I remember correctly, it was around the Fourth of July, I believe.”