Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
"You've never been to the compound?"
"No," Grace and her daughter said in unison.
"Seriously? None of you?" I asked, looking over at Roderick as he moved into the doorway with his sister, his giant frame making her have to move forward or else be crushed.
"None of them what?"
"Have ever been to the compound," I told him, shaking my head. "Why not? Don't they have parties and such in the summer? Family parties?" I specified, knowing he would never want to have his sisters around the whiskey and clubwhore sort of parties.
"Is this true?" Grace asked, brows raising, eyes shooting accusations at him.
"You're ganging up on me too, huh, mami?" Roderick asked, moving into the room to haul me into his side, his arm crushing down on my shoulders.
"Well, it seemed like the thing to do. You know... to fit in," I told him, smiling. "I already swore a blood oath to Mia to start painting your nails in your sleep."
"Oh my God, seriously?" Leala asked, coming into the small space. "You tell people about that? Did you also tell her about how I kept my baby blanket until I was twelve?"
"Nope. But you just did," he informed her, smiling big, all dimples.
They all had them.
Dimples.
Even his mother.
Some had two like he did, others just the one. Some were etched deep like his, others more of a hint like mine.
"Mija, do you cook?" Grace asked, tuning out her children's bickering.
"I do," I agreed, nodding.
"Yeah?" Roderick asked, looking down at me."I was starting to think all those pots and pans in the loft were for decoration."
"Says the man who only knows how to make scrambled eggs," I shot back.
"Hey blame that on Elisa," Mia declared, somehow squeezing into the tiny space as well. "For a whole year, all she would eat was scrambled eggs and strawberries. Roderick got good at making them when Mom had to work."
I liked this.
More than I ever thought I could.
Learning the deeper meanings behind some of the more surface things I knew about Roderick. Would he maybe, someday, have gotten around to telling me about Elisa and her scrambled eggs? Maybe. Or maybe it would have been one of those little things lost to the back of his mind.
I was enjoying hearing all the little things his sisters had to say about him, all the good and bad. And the bad, well, none of it was necessarily bad, and they only seemed to bring it up to fuck with him because they could, because he was quick to tease them as well.
"What are you doing?" I asked when we all finally sat down at a giant dining room table set up in what was meant to be the family room, but had to be the dining room because it was the only space big enough to fit the farmhouse table with room for all of Grace's family and extra space that she called her hopeful seats - one for each of her children to have for a significant other, and Roderick pulled his phone out of his pocket. Knowing how Grace had slapped Ana's knuckles with a wooden spoon when she went to reach for her own, I figured cell phones were a no-no at Grace's table.
"Astrid sent me a picture of the three bags of chips she is having for dinner," he told me. "I wanted to..."
"Shove this in her face?" I supplied, smiling because I liked their weird brother-sister relationship, the way the two liked to fuck with each other.
"Exactly," he agreed, snapping a picture of his over-full plate because his mother claimed that the giant wall of muscle was 'getting too thin' as she scooped his portions out.
"I need New Years Eve elastic band pants," I told him as I looked at my own plate, looking like two servings of my Christmas dinner at once. And I got the distinct feeling that Grace wouldn't hear of me not finishing it.
"And you need to leave room for dessert," Roderick told me, giving my thigh a squeeze.
"Next time, you bring your friends," Grace demanded. "No one should be eating chips for dinner on New Years Eve," she declared, clucking her tongue.
"Astrid would love this," I told her, knowing she would be grumbling when she looked at the picture.
"Maybe for Easter then," she suggested, sounding almost like the issue was settled already.
And I found I liked that.
Her confidence.
Her certainty.
If there was anyone who knew Roderick, it was his mother. And if she thought he was serious about me, that I would be around months from then, well, then, it seemed likely that it would come to pass.
I chanced a look at Roderick's profile, realizing how much I wanted that. To sit here at this very table with these women, with Astrid and Cam, and this man.
Sensing my inspection, Roderick's face turned, giving me a warm smile. "You ready for this, mami?"