Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
"How many more have you got in there?"
"There might be one more," I admit. They were on sale, which actually wasn't helpful.
"You're insane." Tova laughs harder. "Are you still poking at Z? I thought since you two were together, that might die down."
"That will never die down." Our banter is half the fun. I think it's our foreplay, but everything leads to sex, so I can't be a hundred percent sure. "Wait, you think this is to poke at Z?" I glance around his room.
We've been back in the States for a few weeks now. I'm not sure what's going on with the whole Sal and Amato family thing, but it has to still be going because I'm on house arrest. It wasn't bad the first week, but I'm starting to go stir-crazy. I know it puts Z’s mind at ease to know I’m safe. Especially after what happened with the whole shopping trip with Tova and Marks. I’m sure that’s still fresh in his mind, so I can’t blame him for taking extra precautions. Even though it sucks for me.
“There's a lot of pink on his desk,” she points out.
“It’s to brighten his day. I’m trying to give the dark web an accent of color.”
“And a mascot?” She holds up the pink cat statue.
“Mascat,” I correct, making her laugh again. Having Tova home with me has made being cooped up a lot more bearable.
As much as I love it here, the home I grew up in can fit more than a few families. I'm ready to have my own place with Z. To create that space together.
“I haven’t heard from Marks in a bit. You?” Tova asks.
“No,” I say, unable to hide my disappointment. “I, ah—” I pause, not sure if I’m breaking girl code, but Tova is a girl, and she was friends with Marks first, so maybe it’s okay to tell her.
“What? Are you hiding something from me again?” Tova's lips part, her eyes filling with sadness. There is no way I can keep what I know from her. I already slipped away with Marks to Italy, which I know hurt Tova’s feelings. She felt left out, and I don’t want her to feel that way again.
“Don’t get sad! I’ll tell you.” Her mouth forms a line. “I will, holy crap. I’ll fight a bear with a Taco Bell spork to get that expression off your face.”
She snorts, that disappointed, sad expression fading away.
“It was kind of more of a moment, and it slipped my mind until just now because she’s still being so flighty.”
“Oh?” Tova brows rise.
“It went down between her and Z, and him knowing a secret about what she’s up to.”
“Oh, so he’s keeping secrets too!” Tova throws her hands up. Now it’s my turn to lift my brows. These men have all kinds of secrets we don’t poke around about. “Yeah, okay. That we can let slide. For now.”
“That was kind of the same thing Z said. That whatever the secret was, it’s maybe around our family; I don’t know.” I huff out a breath because, yeah, I don’t get it.
“Really?” Her nose scrunches, and I’m sure mine’s doing the same.
“Ope!” I snapped my fingers. “Also that she might be a stalker.”
I try to think if I can remember more. I was still really caught up in Z showing up then; my mind had been racing with so many thoughts that day. “But Z told her he would keep his mouth shut for now. Unless I asked him. But it was kind of clear that she didn’t want me to know or was embarrassed about it.”
“Embarrassed? Marks?”
“Good point.” Does anything embarrass her? It’s actually one of her many superpowers. We both stand there pondering this.
“Wait, hairy thighs are coming to mind.” I stare at Tova because, out of everything she could have said right now, I just didn’t see that one coming.
"Hairy thighs?" I repeat her words to confirm that I heard her correctly. Tova nods. "I mean, thighs are nice, don’t get me wrong. I'll take them hairy or not. Z's aren’t bad, but his ass, that's where it's at. He’s got some junk in the trunk. Good for grabbing on to.”
"What's wrong with my thighs?" I spin around to see Z standing in the doorway, his arms filled with boxes.
"Are those mine?"
"Does anyone else around here have a shopping addiction?"
Chef Marcello does, but I keep that to myself. I'm not outing him. No way do I want to be on his bad side. His homemade Pop-Tarts are to die for, and I’m not losing my breakfast privileges.
"It's not an addiction." I gasp. "I'm making us a home." I wave my arms around the room. "I also have to spend some of that money. It keeps reappearing faster than I can go through it."