Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Normally, they retreat back to their hole with plates piled high with pizza to continue their gaming marathons.
Today, though, they settle around the table.
“This honey sauce slaps,” Evans says as he drags his crust through my sauce until it’s totally marinated.
The purple tint makes it look a little weird, but it tastes yummy.
Oh, and the pizza is incredible.
There’s no doubt Archer Rory can cook with heart and soul.
“It’s an easy sauce to throw together. I think the honey might be a tad sweeter than the usual kind,” I say.
“See, Dad? I told you it’d be big. Don’t you ever listen?” Colt says impatiently, reaching across the table for another slice.
“Yeah, but this is proof,” Archer says. “It’s decent enough to ignore the fact that it’s purple.”
Archer grins at me from the other side of the table.
I wrinkle my nose, biting back a smile.
This is kinda fun, being caught up in a family moment like the kind I never had at home. If we ate dinner together as a family, there was no joking.
Dad would be stuck on work, and Mom would be worrying out loud about her next big dinner party. Or—and this happened more often—dinner was the big fancy social engagement and work project rolled into one fake, miserable event.
Lucky me.
Talking about Dad’s work or Mom’s dress or the stiff, stilted small talk of those dinner parties wasn’t thrilling.
Maybe discussing the nuances of purple honey isn’t the most sophisticated subject, but it’s warm. It’s friendly and authentic and fun.
The two enormous deep dish pizzas Archer assembled go down amazingly fast with five people attacking them. I’m glad I put together some extra garlic bread.
The teenagers are machine eaters, and there’s a weird pleasure from seeing them sit back in their chairs and talk about how full they are by the end.
“Tell me about your wood carving. You’re pretty into it, aren’t you?” I say to Colt as the other two push their chairs back, take their plates to the sink, and scamper back through the house.
“Yeah. Dad helps me sometimes, but I do most of the work.”
“That’s great, Colt.” I nod at the bookshelf behind him, which is decked out with several pieces clearly shaped by his skilled hands.
I see a globe, a scarecrow, a windmill. The last one even has tiny shingles etched on it.
“I’m seriously impressed. How long did it take you to do the windmill?”
“Oh, uh, forever! Definitely a few days to get all the little lines just right. It was only my second time using this new craft carbon knife for precision.” His face lights up.
“Keep it up, no matter what you do for school or work,” I tell him. “You never know when it’ll come in handy—or when it’ll be a ticket to a date with some pretty girl.”
I can’t resist laughing at how he flushes.
“Aw, Winnie, you’re as bad as Dad. That’s what he says all the time.”
“You’re destined to be a ladies’ man, boy. Just not too soon. You’ve got my genes, after all,” Archer says smugly.
My laughter amplifies.
Colt rolls his eyes like marbles, but he grins and laughs.
Yeah, this is new and rapidly addicting.
The warmth, the teasing affection between father and son just reinforces everything I thought about Archer being a good dad in a normal family.
And it’s sweeter than any magic honey when it makes me feel like I’m part of it, rather than the weirdo alien bee-girl dropped into the middle.
Archer holds out a hand for Colt before he goes barreling past us with his plate.
“Hold on, bud. There’s something we need to discuss.”
“Oh, crap. Evans staying over? Dad, I promise you we’re gonna study a bit. You can even call his mom. She asked me to help bring up his math grades this summer before—”
“Not that. You’ve been behaving yourself, so you’re no longer thrown in solitary,” Archer says.
“Oh, cool.” With a huge sigh, Colt stops and leans against the table. “Okay, so, what is it?”
“There’s been a problem with the Solitude house and my other places are booked up. Winnie can’t stay there right now, and since we know her, she’s going to be staying with us for a few days. Not too long, just a temporary fix until we find her something else,” he says. I can’t thank him enough for keeping my secrets close to his chest.
Colt purses his lips and glances at me. His eyes widen.
The kid isn’t stupid.
He’s thirteen. He probably senses something going on, but I look away before I can blush and give everything away.
“Uh, okay. No problem,” he says quietly.
“Also, don’t tell anyone for now. Keep it between us. Not even Uncle Pat or Uncle Dex or even Grandma. You hear me?”
“Yeah, sure. Because you’re worried they’d get the wrong idea?” Colt asks, a knowing grin spreading across his face.
“Exactly,” Archer clips. “Promise me, Son. I know no good deed goes unpunished, but this time I’m trying to avoid the hit.”