Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 113617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
And there, in the mountains, when no one in Prescott dressed like Chloe, but definitely not in a home a ways out of town that was large, and luxurious, if rustic, but in the end it was just a big log cabin, she was wearing slim jeans, a fancy blouse and pumps with death-defying heels that probably cost a quarter of a semester of Gage’s college.
“Right, we had lunch. My friend Harvey went with me. And your operative Heddy was on the ball. She got us to the table and your mom didn’t object,” he opened it.
Chloe smiled smugly.
“I told Harvey what’s happening, he’s on board. And between Heddy and him, Genny and I had no choice but to chat.”
Her smile got even more smug to the point it was triumphant.
Christ, some man or woman out there was in for one helluva wild ride.
“And now it’s done,” he stated.
Her expression faltered. “Done?”
“I’m going to the hotel tonight and coming clean about this plan we’ve been instigating.”
Her big brown eyes grew enormous and she leaned forward, crying, “You can’t do that!”
“Honey, listen to me,” he said calmingly. “I’m a veteran of two spectacularly failed relationships. So trust me on this, because I know. You do not start something, whether it’s important or not, but I think all involved know how important this is, so especially this, on a play. A lie. A deceit.”
“It’s not a deceit,” she declared heatedly.
“Do you deny we’re playing your mom?”
She said nothing.
Right.
He smoothed his voice even further before he shared, “I think I got in there, and if I don’t waste any time, I can get in further. But whether I do or not, that has to be her choice and she needs to be in control of the process of making it.”
“Someone has to right Uncle Corey’s wrong—”
Fuck, but if it did not borderline enrage him that this sweet, if forceful, girl called that man “Uncle Corey.”
He could not get hung up on that.
“And I’m all over attempting to do that.”
“And I want my mom to be happy.”
He felt that.
The thought he could give that to her mother, and she thought he could do that too.
He felt it warm and sharp, like a cut to lance a boil, releasing poison. It hurt, but still, the relief was sweet.
“And I’ll be all over attempting that too,” he said quietly. “If she’ll let me. But she has to make that choice, not be manipulated into it.”
She opened her mouth.
He raised his hand, palm to her.
She closed her mouth.
He dropped his hand and said, “We were both manipulated, Chloe, and I made a fatal decision during that. I understand your motives, and if I still know your mother, she will too. But we have to stop this before it gets any further. And now, you need to leave this to me.”
“So you’re going to just throw us all under the bus, and I’m not unaware, as the ringleader, the person farthest under that bus will be me?”
“Are you saying your mother doesn’t know you well enough to know you’d pull something like this?”
She hesitated a second before she rolled her eyes.
As he suspected.
This was not out of character.
At all.
“I’ve got this,” he assured her.
It took a second, she shifted in her seat during that, then she said, “My dad—”
“Don’t, honey,” he whispered. “You know, if this happens like we want it to, your mom has to give that to me.”
She straightened her spine. “He’s a good guy,”
That remained to be seen.
“And you have to know, they’re still the best of friends,” she continued. “They talk, like…every day.”
“Again, this is for your mother to give me if it gets to that.”
“It’s going to get to that.”
He hoped like fuck she was right.
He didn’t say that or anything.
He just nodded.
“She’s going to dinner with Trisha and Scott tonight,” she informed him.
“I know, you told me that already. I’ll head to the hotel after.”
“That means I’m making us dinner.”
“I just had more tapas than a man should ever eat.”
“Well, I’m not serving it now.”
He grinned at her.
Then he stated, “You don’t have to do that.”
She stood, retorting, “I totally do. I cook French and I rock it. Your taste buds will not know what hit them. But to do that, I need preparation, I need time. The French do not hurry anything.”
“Have at it then, darlin’.”
“I’ll assess your larder, but I’ll probably have to go to the grocery store.”
“You need money?”
Another eyeroll and a drawn out, “Pu-lease.”
“Right,” he muttered, trying not to laugh.
“Though, I do want to drive your Tesla.”
He could no longer hold back his laughter.
And through it, he said, “The fob is in it.”
Yup.
Total pushover.
“Merveilleux,” she replied before drifting an arm his way and swanning out.
He waited until she was gone to pull out his phone and engage the screen.