Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Don’t be. I’ve spent half my life with my favorite person in the world.”
“Still. I know how it feels to lose your mom.”
“It’s not the same,” he says. “She’s still alive.”
“But you had her and you lost her. It’s hard.”
He looks at me funny, like he’s just putting something together.
“What?”
“I’m an asshole.”
Sometimes, sure, but not at this particular moment. “Why?”
“I thought you lived a charmed life,” he says. “’Cause you grew up in this big house, with all this love and attention.”
“I did.”
“You watched your mom die,” he says. “I have no idea how hard that is. How hard that must have been, as a kid.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“I wasn’t fair to you,” he says.
“You didn’t know me.”
“I judged you,” he says.
“Everyone judges everyone.”
“I told myself I was better than that.” He takes a long sip. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I judged you, too.”
“I’m sorry anyway,” he says.
“I’m not.”
His smile breaks up the pain on his face. “Good. You wouldn’t be you if you were.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“You know it’s a compliment.”
I do. That’s the weird thing. I know he really, truly likes me the way I am. “Thanks then.” I take another sip of my tea, even though it’s too cold. “How did you end up here, with your grandma?”
“The guy ended things because he wanted to recommit to his wife. Mom never found a better way to cover the rest of the rent. We got evicted and Mom was running out of money, so she came to Grandma. After that…I know her story and Mom’s, but I don’t know the truth.”
“What’s her story?” I ask.
“Grandma says Mom came by, asking for money, and she made a deal: six figures for her parental rights. Mom could go off and do whatever she wanted with the money, but she had to make Grandma my legal guardian.”
“Do you believe that?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Yes, but it’s not really my place to say. “Your mom’s story?”
“Grandma was vindictive. Angry. She threatened Mom. She’d call CPS. She’d call the police, with evidence of neglect, of drug use. She had friends on the force, power she wasn’t afraid to use.”
“If your mom didn’t leave you with her?”
He nods.
“Do you believe that?”
“Grandma has good intentions, but she’s driven.”
“And driven people will do anything for what they want sometimes.” I know that better than most.
“It’s probably somewhere between those two things,” he says.
“I, uh, thanks.”
“Thanks?”
“For telling me that. People don’t really share with me.”
His eyes pass over me slowly. There’s a heat to it, but it’s subtle. More affection and curiosity than anything. “You’re intimidating.”
“Still?”
“Even more, the better I know you.”
I fight my blush with my tea, but it doesn’t help cool me. “I’m trying to be sentimental here.”
“I know.”
“It’s not my strong suit,” I say.
“I know. It’s sexy.”
“But this is—”
“Serious, yeah. So what. Do you want to keep talking?”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Does it matter?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Deanna
Seduction is easier in the moonlight. Or the city light. Or the candlelight.
Here, under the fluorescent bulbs of the kitchen, with the morning sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains, in the middle of the big, open room?
The dining table isn’t sexy. The counters, either. The couch, maybe.
But then he stripped me here yesterday and I didn’t really notice the lighting. And I am wearing silk pajamas. Silk is sexy. In theory anyway.
No. I’m not Lexi. I don’t need slow jams and fast cars. I need something all mine.
What would the most confident version of Deanna do?
That’s the better question.
I push my breakfast plate aside. “Is it a bad sign we’re dodging important conversations?”
“Or a sign we’re too sexy to resist?”
“Did you just say that?”
“How would you say that?” He stands and offers his hand. “Cause I know how to explain my side.”
I stand, too.
He moves around the table. “I wanted to strip you the second you stepped out here.”
“Yeah?” I meet him at the head of the table.
He looks down at me, his dark eyes on fire with need. “This.” He runs his thumb over the hem of my shirt. “This is Deanna Huntington.”
Maybe, but it’s a lot of people. “This is a really popular brand of pajamas,” I say. “A start-up run by a woman who couldn’t find any affordable luxury sleepwear.”
“You know her personally?”
What does that matter? “Do you need an introduction?”
“You do know her.” He smiles and brings his lips to mine.
I murmur through the kiss. “Why is that funny?”
“You’re different in private.” He runs his thumb over my shirt again. “More modest about your success, your ambition, your connections.”
“We met briefly at a summit for women entrepreneurs. It’s not a big deal.”
“See.”
“No, it’s not that.” I hook my arms around his neck. “Wait. Why are we talking?”
“You’re sexy when you blush.”
We’re still in the main room. We should move to the bedroom in case Lexi comes home soon. But then Lexi never gets home early from overnights. And I’m too on fire to move. “No, no, no. If you don’t have to talk, I don’t have to talk.”