Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“My pocket.”
He glares at me.
“Rude,” I say, taking a drink of my matcha.
“I looked for this all night, and it was in your pocket?”
“It wasn’t technically in my pocket, but that’s how it wound up at the bottom of my laundry basket. You’re lucky I found it.”
He snaps his wallet closed. “No, you’re lucky you found it. You’re the one who took it from the cop yesterday and didn’t give it back to me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry I was too busy getting you out of a speeding ticket to remember to return your license.”
“You didn’t get me out of a ticket, Carys. Eighty-two in a seventy isn’t exactly speeding.”
I grin. “That’s not what Officer Charlie said.”
Tate leans back in his chair and shrugs. “Maybe not, but he didn’t give me a ticket.”
“He didn’t give you a ticket because I was wearing my good bra, and my cleavage was on point, buddy.”
“I didn’t get a ticket because twelve miles per hour over the limit isn’t exactly ticketable, and we all knew it.”
I sigh dramatically. “Typical male. You think you’re special and above the law while failing to read the room—or, in this case, the situation.”
“What in the world do you mean?”
“My ample cleavage was my way of saying thank you to the courageous public servant tasked with keeping our roads safe from entitled assholes like you.” I point a chipped nail in his direction.
“You’re so full of shit.” Tate chuckles. “What are you up to for the rest of the day, anyway?”
I paste on a fake smile that Tate sees right through.
“What?” he asks.
My shoulders fall. “I’m having dinner with my father and Aurora tonight.”
“How’s that situation going?”
“About as good as it’s going to get. At least now I know he’s capable of loving someone other than himself because I think he really does love her. She is forty years-old and looks twenty-five, though. I’m sure that helps.”
My stomach tightens, and the latte inside it sloshes uncomfortably.
The first thing I remember wishing for was my father to want me. I was six years old, and my parents had just divorced. Mom threw a party for all my first-grade friends. We were at the dining room table with six candles flickering on my unicorn cake. “Make a wish!” Mom said while the rest of the room sang “Happy Birthday.” I closed my little eyes tight, and with all the force I could muster, I wished for my daddy to show up that weekend as promised.
I didn’t share my wish with anyone, but he still didn’t come. So much for wishes coming true.
“Want me to go with you?” Tate asks.
“Only if you can charm the pants off Aurora … literally. Save us both from my father.”
Tate gives me his best ornery smile. “You know I’m always up for a challenge.”
I laugh at him. I can always count on Tate.
“Speaking of challenges,” I say, taking another sip of my drink. “Can you still get good money from selling pictures of your feet?”
“I just paid a grand for one last night, so …”
“You did not.” I snort.
“You’re right. It was fifteen hundred.” He winks at me before settling back in his seat. “Why are we contemplating selling pictures of our feet?”
“Because I really, really don’t want to go back to selling insurance with Mom. Not only do I hate insurance with a passion, but I’ll have to admit that Plantcy was … what did she call it?” I think for a moment. “Impulsive, careless, and unrestrained.”
Tate watches me with a half smile but stays quiet. Even though I know he agrees with my mother, he won’t make me feel stupid. And if it comes down to it, he’ll take my side regardless. There’s no judgment with him.
“I had a business plan,” I say. “I found my niche. There’s virtually no competition for Plantcy. I mean, do you know of any other mobile plant sitters?”
He shakes his head and fights a chuckle.
“Ugh. Why is this so freaking hard?” I ask. “Why does it feel like this is falling apart around me?”
Tate leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk. “It’ll only fall apart if you let it.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not easy, but it’s not impossible. How can I help? Need to brainstorm?”
I sigh. “I’m hoping I can parlay Courtney’s party next weekend into a job. Her godmother and I chatted about her struggle with orchids at Courtney’s last get-together. I’m hoping I can strike up another conversation with her, and one thing will lead to another.”
“I forgot about that party.”
“Not me. Courtney’s parties are always fun, and I need the distraction.”
Tate wiggles his brows.
“Stop it.” I shake my head. “The last time the two of you screwed around—”
“Was a lot of fun.”
“It was a disaster! You two almost ruined our friend circle with your bullshit.”