Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Jellie blew out a breath. “Thank God,” she muttered. “That one was worse than the one before, and Pippie had been bad enough.”
“Penelope.” Birch’s deep voice carried over the large, open area, and I turned my gaze up the curved stairway that was the main centerpiece of the entry hall to see Birch descending them with a smirk on his handsome face. “And there was nothing wrong with her.”
Jellie let out a hard laugh. “You have a short memory,” she told him.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really? Then please enlighten me on what was wrong with Penelope.” He emphasized her correct name.
Jellie held up a hand and flipped up one finger. “She had a weird obsession with house plants and talked about them nonstop.” She lifted a second finger. “She broke down in a fit of tears when she found out that there was actually turkey in the dressing and not tofu. Wailing about Bambi—who, by the way, is a deer, not a turkey.” Her third finger shot up. “She made you go to the store four different times because we didn’t have the correct butter or almond milk, and you kept getting some that she swore she could not put in her mouth.”
“Okay, I get it. She was a wack,” he said, holding up a hand while chuckling.
“Oh, but I didn’t get to the best one. The details of her therapist meetings about her fear of belly buttons,” Jellie added, then crossed her arms over her chest, looking smug.
I’d forgotten about that one.
“But she was smoking hot and liked kinky shit,” Birch replied with a wink.
“OH-kay, that’s enough of that. I do not want to hear about any of those details. Please spare me,” Melinda announced. “There is hot cocoa in the kitchen to partake in. Birch, will you take the girls’ things up to their rooms, please?”
Birch walked over to me and reached down to take my suitcase from me. “Good to see you, Noa,” he said. When he moved back with it, he frowned. “Damn, girl, you moving in?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m leaving here on Friday for an event in Chicago,” I explained.
He nodded then. “Ah, the famous Juliette Romeo has to make an appearance,” he drawled, then gave me a wicked grin. “I read your first book, by the way.”
My cheeks heated. Why was Birch reading romance novels?
“And all this time, I had no idea you could read,” Jellie chirped.
He rolled his eyes at her, then turned back to me. “I didn’t know you had such a naughty streak.”
“Leave her alone,” Melinda scolded him. “Stop the teasing.”
Birch glanced over at his mom. “Oh, I’m not teasing. I’m serious. I couldn’t put the shit down.”
Melinda held out a hand to me. “Come on, honey. Let’s go get you some cocoa, and you can tell me all about life. Jellie said that this Thurston was very interested in you. I want to hear about him and the date.”
I swung my gaze to Jellie. Why had she told her that? I didn’t like Thurston.
She shrugged apologetically, then turned to look at her mom. “Uh, yeah, about that. Seems she now has a sexy, shirtless, tattooed man sleeping over on occasion, and she’s not giving me details. Why don’t you get that info out of her instead?”
Birch let out a low whistle. “Tats, huh? Just like the guy in the book. Is that your thing now, Noa?”
No, Birch. It has always been my thing.
Ransom Carver had been my thing since sophomore year. At least I wasn’t on the verge of tears anymore. I could give that to the Watts clan. They had successfully distracted me enough to pull myself together. For now.
The massive island in the large, bright kitchen was covered in food. The far-right side was the waffle bar while the other side was meal preparation for dinner. Melinda would be cooking in here most of the day. After the parade, Jellie and I would get dressed and come help her. Mostly chopping vegetables, loading and unloading the dishwasher in the island, and stirring whatever was simmering on the stovetop.
I stifled a yawn and went to the coffee machine, hoping I remembered how this one worked. It had been new last year, and Finton had ended up having to show me how to use it three times before I finally managed to make a successful cappuccino. Frowning, I stared at it before going to get a cup from the cabinet. Jellie was already in the living room, curled up on the sofa with her favorite quilt, waiting on the parade to start. I knew I could ask her to make it, but I didn’t want to make her get back up.
A dog barked, and I turned to the tall picture windows lining the dining area across from the kitchen to see Birch with a huge chocolate-colored ball of fluff walking up from the multileveled terrace garden out back. He’d talked about getting another dog last Christmas. His last dog had passed away two years ago from old age. It seemed he’d finally been ready to get another one.