Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
He didn’t know I was ten years younger.
I didn’t know he was a Sinclair.
He didn’t care that I was a Wright.
I knew exactly what I wanted.
Yet, I know none of this when I fall into his bed.
Touching him is like finally waking after a long sleep and the thought of being without him is like driving a knife through my chest. But it's worse—he was almost engaged to my brother's wife—which makes him public enemy number one.
Our families hate each other.
No one can know what we did.
If any of my four older brothers find out, they will run him out of town.
And still…I want him.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Part I
Wedding
1
Harley
March
“You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
I blinked at my brother and then gestured to my black lace dress. “Excuse me?”
Whitton shook his head as he squared off his perfectly knotted silk tie. “I know you wanted to be Winona Ryder, growing up, but don’t you think this is taking it a little too far? You look like that girl from Beetlejuice.”
“Should I be insulted or flattered that you think I look like Lydia?” I asked with a tilt of my head.
He laughed. “Only you, Harley.”
“Black is fine for a wedding. It’s a neutral color. You’re going in a black suit!”
“I could wear charcoal,” he said with a shrug.
I turned back to the living room mirror to check out the waves I’d put into my long blonde hair. “Don’t be pedantic.”
“Oh no, Harley is using her advanced vocabulary. You must have upset her,” Whitton’s twin, Weston, said as he strode out of the kitchen with a coffee in hand.
My brothers couldn’t be more opposites. If they didn’t look exactly alike, no one would guess they were related. West was a laid-back musician with a go-with-the-flow vibe, and Whitt was all five-year plans, business suits, and strict schedules. The one thing they always agreed on was ganging up on me. But I could give as good as I could take.
“You’re not even wearing a suit coat,” I said then pointed at his feet. “And you’re in Chucks.”
Whitt winced as he looked at West’s attire. “She has a point.”
West raised his coffee to us. “Still wearing them.”
“We could put you in a suit.”
I grinned, having sufficiently distracted Whitt. And he was wrong anyway. I looked nothing like Lydia, as much as it dismayed me. I’d even forgone my normal Doc Martens for a pair of black heels that made my already-long legs look miles long. I’d contemplated a pair of white sneakers, but no way would Whitt have let me out of the house. Boy didn’t understand fashion.
I slung my black bag over my shoulder and dug out my phone. I shot off a text to Mom.
Wedding bound. Make the boys stop arguing.
A second later, in lieu of a return text, Mom’s face appeared on my screen. I clicked open on the video call.
“Hey, Mom.”
Both of my brothers stopped talking and looked over at me. Well, mission accomplished.
“Hey, sweetie. Are you excited for Jordan’s wedding?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
My mom shot me a quintessential mom look, her short blonde hair falling into her round face—which was my mirror, plus twenty-five years. “So eloquent, my little scholar.”
“You should have come in for it.”
It was her turn to be dismissive. “I don’t know what your brother would have thought about that.”
Which was fair.
Our family was…complicated.
To say the least.
See, our dad was a cheating bastard. In fact, he’d had a whole other family in Vancouver for years before he ever found our mom on a business trip in Seattle for Wright Construction, our family’s namesake. Jordan and his younger brother, Julian, were his kids from his “real” family, and Whitt, West, and I were his dirty little secret. We’d all discovered it a few years ago and confronted Dad about it. I never wanted to talk to his lying face ever again. The boys were more conflicted. Though I didn’t see what was conflicting about it. I’d never let someone treat me the way Owen Wright had treated my mom.
As luck would have it, Jordan and Julian had moved out of Vancouver to dry, dusty Lubbock, Texas, where the headquarters for the family business were located. West followed while pursuing his music. Then, I got a full-ride scholarship to Texas Tech University, and with the prospect of me leaving, Whitt had agreed to come too.
I’d felt bad leaving Mom behind in Seattle. We’d even tried to convince her to come with, but her job and friends and aging parents still lived in town. She’d spent her whole life there. Even if she wanted to move for us, she couldn’t. Not yet at least.
“Hey, Mom!” West said, veering into the picture and waving.
Her eyes lit up. “West. I heard that you and your brother were bickering.”
Whitt leaned over. “We were doing no such thing.”
“Correct,” West agreed. “Whitt was trying to dictate what I should wear.”
Our mom’s eyes raked his tie-less button-up. “Are you wearing Converse?”
Whitt and I both cracked up and said, “Yes,” at the same time.
West shot us a dirty look.
“It’s fine, Mom,” he grumbled.
“I want you to dress appropriate for your brother’s wedding,” she said.
“You should have come,” I told her. “Bonus mom!”
She laughed at that addition. “I’ll come back down eventually. Just couldn’t get away from work and Grandma.”
I exchanged a look with my brothers. Grandma and Grandpa’s health had been in decline for years. It was running Mom ragged. We all worried and missed her. The only time she’d come to visit was to move me into my dorm.