Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Sparkling blue eyes identical to my own stare back at me.
I jerk the door open and stare in astonishment at my baby sister standing on the other side.
Arms held wide, she grins. “Surprise.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl, at the same time pulling her into a bear hug.
She laughs, squeezes me back, and I twirl her around twice for good measure before dumping her back on her feet. “No, seriously,” I deadpan. “What in the fuck are you doing here?”
“Does a little sister need a reason to visit her most awesome big brother?” she chirps, breezing by me but not before tossing a thumb over her shoulder. “Grab my bags.”
I look and see two large suitcases and a smaller carry-on sitting there, along with a large tote. Grumbling, I pull them all across the threshold. “How long are you planning on staying? An eternity?”
“Maybe,” she says with a laugh, heading straight for my fridge. She pulls out a beer, twists off the cap and tosses it in the garbage can under the sink. Farren’s been here on two other occasions to watch me play and knows where everything is.
“Did you fly in?” I ask, shutting the door. “I could have sent a car to pick you up if you’d told me you were coming.”
She spins around, her dark brown hair—same color as my own—catching the light as she plops down on an island stool. “Took the bus. It was a last-minute decision. I just… needed a change of scenery.”
I study her, noting how she doesn’t quite look me in the eye. She takes another sip of her beer, glancing around the condo.
Looking anywhere but at me.
“What’s going on?” I ask suspiciously.
Farren’s always been the wild card in our family, acting on impulse, never quite sticking to the script our parents hoped she’d follow. “Nothing’s going on,” she says dismissively.
“You left Calgary? Just like that? What about your job?”
“Oh, that,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “I quit. Things with Derek got messy, and I couldn’t stand being around him anymore.” Derek, her ex and the manager of the high-end bar where she worked, was a fairly decent guy although I’ve only met him a handful of times. He was a bit of a wet blanket, and I never understood what she saw in him because while my sister is all fire and ice, he was just sort of lukewarm.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Farren, you can’t just run away every time you get a wild hair up your butt.”
“I don’t do that.” She sniffs.
I shake my head, a small, wry smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “What about that time you jumped on a flight to Vegas because you were bored with your job? Or when you sold your car on a whim to fund that music festival road trip with people you barely knew?”
Farren crosses her arms, her brow furrowing as she tries to interject, but I roll right over her as I walk into the kitchen. “And let’s not forget how you moved into that luxury apartment last year—way out of your budget—just because it had a view of the river. You lasted what, two months, before you broke the lease?”
“You’re exaggerating,” my sister retorts, but I see the defiant glitter in her eyes. She knows I speak the truth just as I know she makes no apologies for her behavior.
Leaning on the counter across from her, I give her my serious, older brother look. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just worry about you. You leap without looking, and it’s going to catch up with you one of these days.”
“I know,” she huffs out, setting her beer on the counter. “You’re not exactly criticizing but merely conveying a level of concern bolstered by this innate protective instinct you have, punctuated by playful bickering allowed only because of the deep bond we share.”
I shake my head, chuckling at my sister. “You and your words. You should be a politician.”
Farren wrinkles her nose. “I’m not dishonest enough.”
That’s the truth. No matter how free-spirited she is, they don’t come any more honest or loyal than Farren Abrams.
“I’m not acting on a wild hair in this instance,” she demurs, twirling a finger in her hair. “Merely taking a tactical retreat from my rat wheel of a life.”
“And you plan on, what… staying here?”
“Sure. You have a spare bedroom.”
“For how long? And you’re going to pay me rent?” I prod.
“Yes,” she drawls, flashing me a toothy grin. “Of course I will. I just have to find a job first.”
“You could go to college,” I say, giving her a pointed look. It’s been the source of many arguments between my parents and Farren that she didn’t even consider this path, especially since she’s got a near genius level IQ.