Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Are you going to follow this up with a Sparkle joke?”
She laughs. “No, but dammit. I should’ve.”
“Matte back. I don’t want to sparkle too much and take the attention away from Sara.”
Mom comes out of the closet with a tie over her arm and a smile on her face. “You’re such a sweetie.”
“I know.” I kiss her cheek. “Thanks for this.”
“Do you have a jacket? Shoes?”
I nod. “I have a suit. It’s just that my ties are yellow, lavender, and a stripey one that I hate. None of those go with red.”
“No, they don’t. But this one will look great.” She hands it to me. “Do you want me to come over and take pictures?”
“This is not a school dance, Mother.”
“Don’t you want a picture to preserve the moment? Don’t you want to remember it?”
I smirk. “What you mean is that you want to remember it, because I promise you that this evening will be permanently etched in my mind.”
We start to go back to the kitchen when something outside the window catches my attention. I walk over to the glass and burst out laughing.
“What?” Mom asks.
Jess is attaching some kind of mesh around wooden posts that form what I think is the chicken run. He has a pencil over his ear and a measuring tape on his hip. He pauses and bends down, helping one of the baby chicks get out of a bowl. He’s smiling, his lips moving like he’s talking to a baby. Is he cooing to a chicken? This is gold.
“Look at Chicken Daddy out there.” I lift the window open. “Jess, you are the chicken father!”
He flies me the middle finger.
I shut the window and meet Mom in the kitchen.
“So no to pictures?” Mom asks.
“Big no.”
“What time are you leaving?”
“I’m not telling you. You’ll come over and try to take pictures.”
She laughs, pinching my cheek with the dimple. “You are so handsome, Banks.”
“Thanks, Mama. You’re very pretty too.”
She smacks my shoulder. “Have fun tonight. Enjoy it with your lady.”
“I will.” I reach for the tie and she places it in my hand. “Thanks for your help with the tie and the dress.”
“You should pay me back with a picture.”
“I’m not that thankful,” I say with a wink.
“Brat.”
I head for the door. “Five thirty. You get five minutes’ worth of pictures.”
“I knew you’d cave.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
She laughs. “Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you, Mom.”
The door slams shut behind me.
21
Sara
Betsy’s engine roars before the car stops under the canopy. Men in suits open our doors and welcome us to the gala.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the gloved hand extended to me and stepping onto the pavement.
Banks comes around the front of the Corvette with a massive smile on his face. The three women standing at the door stop their conversation to watch him. He commands their attention by just walking, and the best part—he doesn’t even realize it.
I’m not sure he even cares.
I glance down at the gorgeous, fake engagement ring that Banks gave me before we left his house.
“Where did you get this?” I ask, laughing.
He slips it on my finger. “From Pippa. We have to return it after the gala. I won’t let any schmuck think you weren’t getting an engagement ring. Wasn’t happening.”
The thought makes me smile.
“Hey,” I say softly, trying to quell the blip of excitement in my stomach.
He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine. That helps.
“We’re not too late,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Just twenty-five minutes or so.”
I laugh. “I couldn’t say no to your mom’s little impromptu photo shoot.”
He groans. “I told her this wasn’t prom. The woman won’t take no for an answer.”
“So that’s where you get it.”
“Maybe.” He presses a sweet kiss on my cheek. “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight? Drop-dead gorgeous, Sara.”
I blush. “You have, but you’re more than welcome to keep telling me.”
He laughs, offering me his elbow. “Are you ready to go inside?”
I slip my arm through his and let him lead me to the door, pretending not to see the trio of cougars waiting to pounce. We climb a small set of marble steps to a landing. On the far wall is a massive set of heavy double doors with two large men standing beside them.
“Have I told you how hot you are tonight?” I ask as we walk down the hall toward the banquet room.
“I don’t think so.”
I nudge him, laughing. “I’ve told you a hundred times.”
“So tell me again. I like it.”
“You, Mr. Carmichael, are looking handsome and dapper in your modern classic slim-cut suit.” I lean toward him and whisper. “And all I can think of is unzipping your pants, pulling your cock out, and sitting on it.”
He groans, making me giggle.
“Good evening,” I say to the bearish gentleman holding a tablet. “I’m Sara Willis, a guest of Mr. Petterson’s.”