Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 133878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Henry was right. He wasn’t fucking dumb. He’d been excellent at school, and when there was no more school and no way to go to college, he’d read. He’d taken shit from everyone for enjoying a book. Bay had too, though it never seemed to bother him. There was a deep well of certainty in his brother that he didn’t possess.
Or was he wearing the wrong glasses?
“I can’t work at the G forever. Even if she stayed, she would need more than I can provide,” he heard himself saying.
“But she doesn’t.” Henry put a hand on his shoulder. “Another thing you’ve had placed in your head. I know Brooke. She wants a teammate. Probably two, given how she grew up. She’s a unicorn, you know.”
He realized how often he played down his own intelligence since his first instinct was to ask Henry what he meant. But he knew. “Because where else would we find a woman we don’t have to convince that the relationship we want can work. She’s unique.”
“She is indeed. Stop coming up with all the reasons why you don’t deserve this. Start enjoying what you have. You want to know what will keep her by your side? Build something with her. Help her. Grow with her. Or you can let the people who hurt you win. It’s as simple as that. Poppy, sweetie, I don’t think the goat wants you to ride him.”
But it kind of looked like the goat did. That goat was bowing down and letting the girl climb all over it. It was weird, but then everything about the Flanders family was weird. And true.
He watched Henry scoop up his daughter and wondered if his stepmother’s cruelty would haunt him forever.
Wednesday
“But I already took the beet.” Bay had done a double dose because apparently there was a certain part of the ranch that attracted aliens, and he’d worked there for a couple of days. So Cassidy had shown up with her monthly dose for all the ranch hands.
He’d had to brush hard so his teeth weren’t purple.
Brooke gave him a stare as she downed her own. “The worst that can happen is you don’t get hypertension. You know beets are a superfood.”
“No, honey, the worst that can happen is one of the spores the Jelan males leave behind gets under his skin and worms it’s way to his lower intestine where it takes root and grows into a baby in roughly three months,” Cass pointed out.
“Hey, don’t you have that red spot on your leg?” Shane asked. He’d already downed his. “What if it wasn’t poison ivy?”
“Cass,” Bay said, “we’re going to need to make that a triple.”
Thursday
“You’re sure you don’t want to order something? Or bring in a famous designer?” Brooke sat in the big cabin Seth Stark had built years before. This monstrosity of comfort had been designed with a family in mind, and like all things Seth Stark wanted, he’d made it happen.
Georgia shrugged. “Why would I do that when I have you? Unless you don’t want to do it.” Georgia was a gorgeous woman with blonde hair and a sweet face. “I’m reluctant to go with most of the famous designers. You know they don’t like to design for larger women.”
Larger? Brooke barely managed to not roll her eyes, but she understood. Georgia was a whole size ten instead of a zero. She was stunning and sexy and had two men panting after her, but the fashion world could be cruel to anyone with hips and breasts.
The theater was different. She designed for the character, not some standard few people could ever meet. She had to think about the character, how they would dress, how clothes would make them feel. If clothing was armor or an outward expression of who they were inside.
She was remembering why she liked it so much. And it didn’t hurt that Cleo praised her as a goddess every day.
And then Bay and Shane worshipped her like one at night.
“I think they’ll make an exception for Georgia Stark-Warner. You’re kind of the coolest woman in the city right now,” Brooke pointed out. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a whole bunch of ladies in Manhattan who follow your every move and dress exactly like you.”
“Because she’s the most gorgeous girl in the world,” Seth said, walking through, carrying a bundle of the cutest chunk ever. Wesley Stark-Warner looked like his mom, with a mop of blonde hair and a wide smile showing the beginnings of his first tooth. The baby drooled and hung onto his father.
“There are plenty of people in Manhattan who think I’m a gold-digging moron threatening to upend their society,” Georgia pointed out.
Seth leaned over and kissed her forehead. “And we don’t give a fuck about those people. Is this about the Met Gala? I told you, if you don’t want to go you don’t have to.”