Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
But no, I want to have a nice dinner. I want this night to be about her, for her.
“Chicken,” she says so softly that I almost miss it, even in this quiet room with only the mood music and the vague sounds of other people behind the closed door to compete. “It looks good. Not the chicken of the sea. The chicken of the land.”
“We can get both and try some of each other’s. Chicken of the sea and the land.”
Her smile shouldn’t be so dazzling, but it is, and it goes straight to my chest. There’s been a decided absence of warmth in my life. It started when I was young. I learned to shut out the goodness along with the bad. I learned how to shut myself off, so I didn’t get hurt. I should be using those same skills now. Walling myself up to prevent those daggers from slipping in—the ones that life is so fond of using to destroy me from the inside out. But I can’t. It’s impossible with this woman. I haven’t even considered it, not since the first time I saw her in person in that club.
“Chicken of the sea and the land it is then.”
Chapter thirteen
Weland
Isaw myself coming home with my super hot husband and maybe getting a goodnight kiss. Or maybe being brave enough to give one. My brain was telling me to take it slow while the rest of me was screaming full tilt, high blast, pedal to the freaking metal that I dive in with both feet and get wet fast. Really wet. And not the kind of wet that involved water. Unless it was hot shower sex. Or hot do the dishes together and then have sex on the kitchen counter sex. Or maybe hot soapy water to clean the house and have astoundingly hot sex on various surfaces that will then need to be cleaned again sex.
I didn’t see myself coming home to the Greedy Gretchen Trio of Terribleness, but one look at them and then at Sterling’s jaw locked up so granite tight that it could nutcracker a heck of a lot more than nuts and at the haunted look in his eyes and I know. I know this is our worst nightmare coming to life.
“Stay here. I’ll try and talk them down.” He opens the car door and I scramble out the passenger side. There’s no way I’m leaving him to face this on his own. I try to shoot him a look of support when his eyes bug out at me getting out. I hope he understands it because I’m not sure I’m so good at telepathy or telegraphing or whatever it is I’m trying to do.
At least Sterling’s hands don’t ball into fists. He doesn’t go on the defensive like I expect him to. Apparently, my front doorstep isn’t a warzone. He must be really good at meeting with people who are grouchy and need to be talked down because he smiles. Yes. Smiles. Anyone would think he’s actually happy to see his cousins.
Meanwhile, I’m over here freaking the heck out on the inside, and just a little part of me is mourning the fact that I’m not going to have any type of sex at all now, which is probably good because it’s way, way too fast no matter what my body tells me I might want. Wants are not needs. I don’t need to have kinky, blissful, hot, amazing, blow-my-mind sex with the hottest man on earth. I’ll survive another day without it. I’ve survived an entire lifetime so far.
Regardless, my ovaries still want to go completely homicidal on these three for messing up my night.
Just saying.
“Joseph. Lucas. Toe-Toe.”
The cousins have arranged themselves from tallest to shortest. Oddly enough, they’re each just a few inches shorter than the other, like a set of stairs. They all have dark hair, dark eyes, and dark scowls. They’re also all wearing jeans and plain black T-shirts as though they agreed ahead of time that it’s the official uniform of assholes. With their arms crossed over their chests, they could be triplets.
“Don’t call me Toe-Toe!” the shortest one huffs. I don’t know if he’s the youngest. He could also be the middle child. It’s nearly impossible to tell. It’s crazy how different they look from Sterling. Not a single one of them is anywhere near as tall as he is.
Honestly, I get the sibling rivalry thing just looking at them. They’re not as tall, not as muscly, and certainly not as good-looking. They probably aren’t anywhere near as smart, naturally charming, good-hearted, controlled, or successful either. Sterling set the bar high in all he did. I can just see it.
“I’m sorry. Tony,” Sterling corrects. “It’s so nice of you to come all this way for…for what? Tea? Conversation? To meet my wife?”