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)
I snort impulsively.
Rina coming back won’t help me move shit—not that I need to move on, anyway.
If we weren’t psychoanalyzing my love life, it wouldn’t be a visit with Mom.
I’ve dated other women since Rina left. Even if those dates were more like coffee and a quick fuck. Enough to scratch an itch a few times a year when Colt goes away overnight with Mom or friends, never enough to mean anything, and that’s exactly how I like it.
It’s not like I’ve been celibate for a decade, pining away after my demented ex.
“Archer—”
“Mom, we’ll see,” I say. “Time will tell. I don’t trust a word she says.”
“I’m not just talking about Rina, honey.”
“Then what?”
“Why, the lovely young woman who’s been staying in your cabin. I heard you had a dessert date with her.”
Oh, shit.
This day just got better.
Damn Junie and everyone else who’s been leaking my personal crap to my mom of all people. Will I ever catch a break?
But Winnie dredges up the thought of what happened last time we met.
Try like hell, I can’t escape the memory. It stabs me in the head every time I have a spare second. Sometimes even when I don’t.
A three-minute make-out kiss never affected me like this.
It never wrecked me before.
Sometimes, when I’m alone, I think I can still smell her.
“Colt showed me the honey,” Mom explains. “It looks very special and very sweet. It was nice of her to give him some.”
Yeah, because in the brief time I’ve known her, Winnie hasn’t learned how to be anything but ‘nice.’
Maybe if she was meaner, bitchier, and more selfish, she would’ve avoided this entire mess. She could’ve told the dickwad who chased her away to take a hike, and she could’ve stood there in that pretty wedding dress with a worthy man who cherished her.
Still, I’d never change shit about that woman.
I just don’t want to think about her honey-sweet, sunshiny personality and the way it goads me into wanting to defile her.
“Yes, well, she knows what she’s doing with that. The girl’s obsessed with bees and honey harvesting.” I fold my arms, trying to steer the conversation away from how nice she truly is. “And for the record, it wasn’t a ‘date,’ Mom. It was business, plain and simple.”
“Oh? My, that’s too bad. Junie said you two looked cute together.”
I shake my head ferociously.
“It’s Junie we’re talking about. She lives for gossip and matchmaking. Do you remember that girl three months ago she tried introducing me to?”
“I do. She gave up after you turned her down three times for a date. I think you scared the poor thing away,” Mom says soothingly. Like that changes the hard fact that my scheming sister-in-law, roughly ten years my junior, thinks I need her help setting me up with women.
Bah.
“That’s not the point, Mom. I don’t need Junie’s help, or anyone’s. I can handle my love life just fine, thank you. And for the last time, Winnie is not part of it.”
“Ah, Winnie, yes, that’s her name.” Mom snaps her fingers. “I couldn’t remember.”
“You don’t need to,” I bite off. “There’s nothing going on.”
But Mom just smiles back like the happy mind-reading elf she is until I want to groan and hide my face.
Fucking hell… is it that obvious?
Am I that honey drunk, hung up on a woman who’s every kind of wrong?
The ever-widening smile on Mom’s face tells me that’s a big fat yes.
I fight the urge to start punching the wall.
11
BEE-DAZZLED (WINNIE)
There are few things better in life than a homemade meatball sub.
This one has everything. Meatballs, onions, savory red sauce, and a nice dose of gooey cheese. I’m in seventh heaven before I’ve taken a single bite when the phone rings.
The sandwich goes everywhere as I make a grab for it.
It’s so embarrassing how desperate I am for Archer’s attention. Apparently, I’ll move with sandwich-destroying speed.
A human travesty.
Especially when I spent way too long finding the perfect recipe, cooking the meatballs and sauce from scratch, and assembling the whole thing. Now, half of my precious meatballs are on the floor with the other half scattered across the table.
Oh, plus one on my lap.
Fantastic.
The name on the screen isn’t even Archer’s. Disappointment stabs me in the gut until I process the name.
Lyssie, my bestie from Springfield. The disappointment fades into a mix of nerves and cautious excitement as I swipe to answer.
“Hey, girl.”
“Wynne Abigail Emberly, holy shit! Do you know what you’ve done?” Lyssie hisses. Guess it’s serious, then—she would never use my full name otherwise.
“Fled my wedding? Yep, I was there, Lyssie.”
“On the day of.”
“Ah, thanks. I wasn’t aware.”
She laughs awkwardly and then goes stone-cold silent again.
“…was it the dress?” she whispers. “It was gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but it looked like a beast to climb into.”
“It was. That’s why I cut it off. With scissors.”