Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
She glances at the box the same way she does every time I offer her some, but this time, she reaches in and grabs one, and I take that as a win.
“Art and business. I wanted to learn all aspects of art, and I always wanted to open my own shop. I probably could’ve done both without going to school, but I wanted the best chance at being successful.”
“Well, it looks like you did what you set out to do. This place is clearly a success.”
“Yeah,” she says with a soft smile, “it is.”
She pops the red Sour Patch Kid into her mouth, and her lips pucker at the sourness.
“Ugh. I forgot how sour these are,” she says, her face contorted in the cutest expression.
“Don’t worry,” I say with a laugh. “The sweetness that comes after is worth it.”
ELEVEN
Kinsley
“What the heck is going on?” I mutter.
I click out of the scheduling app and then back in, but it still doesn’t work. Scott left early to go visit his parents for the weekend, so we’re booking our own appointments until he gets back. Usually, I have no problem using the scheduling app, but for some reason, it’s not working.
“I don’t know what’s going on with the app, so I can’t schedule your appointment,” I say to Shane, swiping out of the app. “And without getting into it, I can’t see what I have available.”
“That’s okay,” he says. “If you want, I can give you my number, and you can just text me …”
“Not happening.” I shake my head. “Once it’s working, I’ll have Scott reach out to you.”
Texting him—and in turn giving him my number—would be a bad idea. He’s already finding ways to slip through the cracks of the wall I’ve put up. The last thing I need is to open the damn gate and let him walk right in.
Shane chuckles, but doesn’t argue.
“How’d it go?” Dad asks when we get to the front desk so Shane can pay.
“Good,” Shane says with a grin. “Kinsley is magic with a tattoo gun.”
Dad chuckles as Shane pulls his card out from his wallet.
“Any plans tonight?” Shane asks me while my dad runs his card.
Before I can think of a lie, my dad throws me right under the bus. “This was your last appointment, Kins, so you can head out. I have a friend coming in to get some ink done, so I’ll be here awhile, and I can close up.”
I glare his way, but he either doesn’t notice or pretends not to.
“In that case,” Shane says, “want to go grab a drink?”
“I can’t. I’m unavailable,” I blurt out, flinching when I hear how stupid that sounded.
Shane laughs. “There’s that word again,” he says with a smirk. “Yet you’re standing here, looking completely available.”
My dad twists his mouth, obviously trying to hide his smile, but doesn’t say a word.
“What about your daughter?” I ask, trying and failing to think of a reason to say no.
“She’s working and then spending the night at Casey’s.” Shane steps toward me. “C’mon, Sour Patch,” he murmurs, shooting me puppy-dog eyes that tell me exactly where his daughter gets them from. “Just one drink. It’s Friday night, and neither of us has plans.”
I know if I say no and really mean it, Shane won’t argue. As insistent as he is about wanting to spend time with me and get to know me, he always respects my boundaries when I make it clear I don’t want to go out with him—it just doesn’t stop him from trying again next time—but for some reason, I find myself wanting to say yes tonight.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t been out since our girls’ night at Neptune’s or because I’ve spent the past three years isolating myself from everyone … or maybe it’s because, despite Shane scaring the hell out of me with his charm and the way he seems to genuinely care, I enjoy talking to him.
“Okay.” Shane’s face lights up, but before he can get his hopes up, I add, “Just one drink, and it’s not a date or anything like that. It’s just two people who are kind of friends having a drink together.”
His lips curl into a beautiful, boyish grin. “I’ll take it.”
“Have fun,” Dad says with a knowing smile that I want to wipe off his face.
When we get outside, I follow Shane to his truck but then remember …
“If we’re drinking, you can’t drive.”
I know it’s stupid since I wasn’t drinking the night I wrapped the vehicle around the pole, but Brandon’s drinking led to him not being able to drive, which set off the horrible domino effect, and I never want to be in the position where I have to drive for someone who’s been drinking again. Hell, I never want to drive again. So, if we’re drinking, no one is driving.