Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“You go to a JP and—”
“Not the semantics, Darby,” Nate growls. My hackles rise. Literally. The hair on my neck and arms stands up because no one talks to Darby that way, not even her brother.
Thankfully, he doesn’t become threatening with her, and he stands down immediately. The pissing contest was just for me. I could tell he’d never hurt her because they’re a normal family who doesn’t beat the piss out of each other. He wants to protect her from me if anything. I’m the one who needs to stand down. Am I seriously going into full protective mode, getting ready to fight for Darby? What the hell?
“He needed to get married, so we got married. It’s a professional agreement, nothing more. It was legal, but it’s not real.” She holds up a hand. “Look, Nate, I didn’t think anyone would be here, and I’m so happy you are, but I don’t want to talk about that. Maybe…maybe later. Let us get unpacked, and…oh. Oh shit. If you guys are here, that means….”
“Don’t worry, sis.” Nate sets his hand on her shoulder while glaring at me. “He can take the couch.”
Darby whirls around, and her eyes track to mine. They’re so blue, even in the dark of night, but not blue like my eyes, which are kind of pale and washed out. She studies me, frowning, then slowly shakes her head like she’s figured out something about me that I’m nowhere near ready to share. It’s unnerving. It makes me feel seen, like seen in the way that her eyes just blasted a hole straight through me, peeling off skin and bone to find the festering black mass of pain writhing underneath.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll take the couch. It would be awkward for him to sleep out there. The couch sucks. I can handle it. And, Nate, please don’t tell Grandpa and Grandma anything about the fake marriage. I can explain everything to you later, but I don’t want them to know. It would stress them out, and they’re too old to get a shock like that.”
“Damn straight,” Nate agrees. “You just about gave me a heart attack. I won’t tell anyone, but you have to explain everything soon. And, if he didn’t go around blurting it, that would be helpful.”
I shrug. “Sorry, sweetheart, sugarplum, angel food cake, it just slipped out.”
Nate rolls his eyes at Darby and gives me a look that says he’d very much like to get me with his brotherly laser vision of destruction eyes right where I stand. Great. This is going to be such a fun trip. Great freaking fun.
“Can you go tell them that we’re here? Me and my boss. Say that the only way I could take holidays was if I made it a work trip, and he agreed to this. Or something. I don’t know.” Darby winces. “Can you work with that? Make something up?”
“You should do it. They’ll be waiting for you. Grandma’s been crazy excited for games all night, but I was busy fixing a leak on the roof all afternoon until it got dark, so she started a puzzle, and now she’s hooked. Grandpa’s helping, but I don’t know how much help he’s giving her, seeing as he’s been hitting the prune juice all night. Don’t worry. If you sit down and help, they’ll probably forget all about Lord Poo over there.”
“Oh my god, Nate! Can you please not go there? I regret ever telling you anything. Ever.”
“She told me that as a compliment,” Nate says dryly. With a huff, Darby turns and heads to the car, and he turns and flips me the bird before he goes back inside.
Yup. So much fun.
Also, is hitting the prune juice a euphemism? Because if so, I like it. I like it a lot.
Darby has the bags out of the car. She’s got her duffel over her shoulder as well as my bag handle popped out, ready to roll. I turn around to take them from her, but she shakes her head and, giving me a look that says she wishes I’d go spontaneously mute for the next day until her family clears out, pushes past me. Is it wrong that I think it’s super hot she’s carrying two bags right now, even if mine is light and has wheels? She looks like a total badass.
Considering who we are, which is boss and assistant, yes, it’s wrong. Very wrong. The fact that I bribed her into marriage doesn’t help either, and the other fact that I can notice her beauty at all while my head feels like someone is carving my brain apart to serve as aperitifs—mmm, a slice of cheese to go with that gray matter, or how about an olive—says all sorts of wrong.
Darby leads me up a porch that is weathered gray but glows gold in the light thrown from the windows. There are white, frilly curtains hanging at the small windows that let out lots of the light. I wince against even that much. The past few days have done a number on my head, and the headlights tonight were brutal. Honestly, I’m actually glad Darby drove the rest of the way.