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)
It feels like it was bubbling under the surface, waiting to emerge, oozing with the grim hint that Winnie’s own childhood was anything but enjoyable.
“Happy enough. I mean, Dex and Pat were annoying pricks, but that’s what any older brother deals with.” I look at her sharply and the awkward way she’s hugging her stomach. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, Arch.” Like hell. The emphasis she puts on ‘fine’ says the opposite. “Your mom’s done, I think. Let’s go meet her. I’m starving.”
Surprisingly, dinner isn’t set up in the formal dining room.
Mom usually hosts there because it’s bigger and grander, but I guess because it’s just the three of us, she’s decided to keep it simple in the kitchen instead. I lead Winnie in there.
“Winnie!” Mom says, kissing her on the cheek. “It’s so good to meet you at last.”
“Great to meet you too, Mrs. Rory,” Winnie says politely.
“Don’t you dare call me anything but Delly.” Mom beams at us. It’s clear Patton talked this up, which means I’m going to have to punch his face in. “Sit, sit, both of you. I hope you like chili, Winnie? It’s a creamy white chicken chili recipe, a southwestern classic with a Midwestern twist. I kept the jalapeños on the side in case you don’t like much spice, dear.”
“I love it. I can handle a few peppers.” Winnie smiles as she sits, poised and confident. Just the right warmth glows on her face.
All her usual nail-picking nervousness is gone.
I shouldn’t be surprised she can rein it in when she’s grown up at political dinners where there are five damn forks at your place and you look like the biggest moron in the room if you don’t know how to use them.
“Perfect!” Mom quickly ladles chili into bowls and launches straight in as she serves them up. “I must say, I’ve been so excited to meet you, Winnie. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really?” Winnie glances at me. “I only met Patton once.”
“Oh, not just Patton, though of course he talked you up. Actually, Colt’s the one who’s been singing your praises for some time now.”
Shit. How could I forget?
“Of course he has,” I say dryly. “Turns out, he’s a big fan of the bees.”
All thanks to Winnie, but I don’t say that part.
“And of you, Archer,” Mom says so abruptly I almost choke on my soup. “But tell me about the bees.”
Winnie goes into way too much detail, telling her about the brand-new boxes we set up for expansions, honey extraction, how much she’s expecting to yield this year, and the rare plant the bees are making their purple gold from.
But Mom doesn’t mind her passion.
Not at all.
She watches Winnie like the girl’s a celebrity as she eats, hanging on every word, nodding with a smile every time Winnie looks up.
Goddammit.
I can’t stop gawking at her for very different reasons.
Not because of what she’s saying when I’ve heard it all before. Rather, it’s how she lights up when she nerds out about her precious little honey farm.
She’s human glitter, radiant as hell when she’s caught in the one thing in the world she loves unconditionally above all else.
It makes me wish her idiot parents or that jackal ex would never take this away from her.
If I had my way, I’d leave her with bright, happy eyes that could rival the moon and the widest grin to go with her clumsy, gesturing hands.
I’d make sure she gets to be this fresh-faced, excited young woman when she talks about honey without another care in the world.
I’d find a way to keep her grinning because it’s so fucking endearing.
That’s because you want to kiss her again, idiot, I tell myself.
Apparently, when she’s around, my sex drive doesn’t have an ‘off’ switch, but when she’s like this, there’s nothing I want to do more than kiss her sweetly, tenderly, and press my teeth into her plush little lip to whisper what she needs without words.
Woman, it’s going to be okay. I promise.
Your damn bees are all you should ever have to fuss about.
Shit, I’d even listen to her ramble for hours.
As long as it takes to know that emptiness in her eyes isn’t waiting again as soon as her family injects more misery into her life.
What the fuck is happening to me?
I really wonder as she runs out of words and stops motormouthing to breathe.
Then Mom turns to me. “My, no wonder Colt’s taken such an interest in beekeeping. How could anyone be bored of this?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think he’s planning a whole biology project on it.”
“Biology? He isn’t busy enough with his summer math classes?”
“For fun,” I say with a proud snort. “He and that Evans kid are going out to document the lifecycle of our local bees and enter them into some big national app for bee studies. If it keeps him out of trouble, I can’t complain.”