Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“How was your shower, dear?” Nanny places a few pieces of French toast onto Remi’s plate before passing the serving tray over. She already has a glass of orange juice filled for all of us. I feel like it’s early in the morning, not mid-afternoon, but Nanny always did love a bit of breakfast for lunch. Or dinner. Or midnight snack.
“It was good,” Remi mumbles. “Thank you for the clothes.” She won’t look at me. I notice she’s looking at Nanny, even though I’m trying not to look at her either.
I put six pieces of French toast on my plate. Nanny would worry about me if I ate anything less. Plus, I still have a shit pile of work to do with that deck. I need the fuel. I stuff one into my mouth, nearly whole, and chew. It’s good. Damn it. It’s so good. Nanny always knows just what to make to pull me out of even the deepest, funkiest funk.
“That dress looks stunning on you, dear. I think you should keep it.”
“Oh, I—I’m not sure I’d have the right place to wear it.”
“Nonsense,” Nanny laughs. “The backyard is the perfect place. Or for a walk. Leopard print is the perfect pattern for strutting your stuff.”
Against my will, my eyes sneak up and across the table. Remi is looking at her plate. It leaves me far too free to take her in. Her eyes might be lowered, and her hair might be wet, but she’s still glorious, beautiful, and breathtaking sunshine. My eyes drop a little bit lower and freeze on the dress. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She’s not wearing a bra. I can see her beaded nipples through the fabric. I wrench my gaze the heck away, my body burning. I’m like petrified wood under the table, and it makes me want to stab my inappropriate boner with my fork. A few holes might help the bastard deflate.
I refuse to think about last night’s kiss. Or how I ran. I’ve been dying of humiliation. I refuse to think about how Nanny probably planned this, sitting us down across from each other. I refuse to think about Remi’s nipples, hard little peaks arching through that ridiculous dress. I’m not going to think about how soft her lips were or the way those wet clothes pressed against every slight, delightful curve of her body in the backyard. I don’t want to think about how her screams were half a screech and half a sweet melody of a laugh or how she’s not wearing a bra right now because Nanny didn’t give her one since borrowing someone else’s grandmother’s undies is way too much.
And, there we go. Successful boner deflation. Thoughts of granny panties for the win.
If that hadn’t done it, Nanny’s next words sure would have. “Sullivan, sweetheart, you should take Remi on a date.” At the bang of my jaw slamming into the table, Nanny huffs. “Never you mind that she-viper of an ex-wife. It’s time she was forgotten, and you learned how to be happy again.”
Now I have to look at Remi. She looks as shocked as I am. Her eyes are pure golden sunshine and liquid blue seas, more tranquil than I have any right to deserve. Her fork is paused in mid-air, and she’s biting down on her bottom lip to keep her face blank.
“N—Nanny,” I stammer. “That would be the worst idea.” Remi starts sawing her bottom lip, and I realize what an idiot I am. “I mean, Kimmy….” I realize I’ve stabbed a piece of French toast, and it’s leaking syrup all over the table because it’s suspended in midair on my fork.
“Your sister doesn’t have anything to do with you taking a beautiful woman out on a date,” Nanny huffs. She takes a sip of her orange juice, all innocent.
“Kimmy’s already frothing at the mouth.” As if I have to explain that to her after the whole laxative incident and showdown outside the bathroom during the party. “Taking her best friend out on a date would be like piling gasoline-soaked, really dry, old wood onto an already roaring fire.”
“I’m kind of right here,” Remi grunts.
Nanny whips her head around and smiles at both of us. “Ask her. Ask if she would like to go out on a date with you.”
“Like, right here,” Remi mumbles.
“Remi, would Kimmy care if I took you out on a date?” I wince. Why the hell did I just say that? I’m not giving in to Nanny’s crazy schemes. I’m not. I’m really not.
Remi lowers her fork calmly, but I can tell what an effort she’s making to hide what she’s really feeling. There isn’t anything accusatory in her eyes. Nothing hurt. Nothing that asks why the hell I showed up at her house, soaked to the bone, kissed her, and then ditched her. Nothing that says, yeah, right, I wouldn’t go on a date with you even if you were the last man alive, the world was burning, aliens and beasts from other planets with really sharp teeth were coming, and you were my only hope of not being eaten alive very, very slowly, one excruciating chomp at a time.