Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Working as a nanny for Janey would be an easy gig if—and that’s a big if—it didn’t also come with my twin brother, Cole. To put it mildly, he’s a lot to deal with, coming off as deadly and dangerous despite his classic good looks, and his obsession with Janey has extended to their son, so Riley’s not kidding about having Emmett’s first steps recorded because Cole has wired their house with cameras inside and out.
“You’re right!” Janey exclaims, grabbing her phone. I don’t need to see the screen to know that she’s logging in to the cameras right now. “Aww, look at my cutie patootie boys,” she coos, flipping the screen around to show my brother having what appears to be a very serious talk with a propped-up Emmett. Knowing Cole, it could be about anything from camouflage for maximum invisibility in any environment to investment strategies in offshore accounts.
Riley’s next, pulling her phone out to show pictures of her and Grace on a recent thrift store shopping excursion, both with whipped-cream-topped Starbucks concoctions in hand. “We found a bunch of T-shirts we’re gonna tie-dye, and then some graphic ones we’re gonna cut up and use as patches to make one-of-a-kind shirts. It should be fun and then we can wear them on our summer vacation.” It definitely will be fun, for them. Personally, I can’t wait to see my straight-laced brother in a tie-dye T-shirt with a hand-stitched Disney character patch. Maybe a pair of Mickey ears too.
“You want to see cute?” Dani asks, pulling her phone from her pocket.
“If you’re about to show us a picture of Kyle’s dick, don’t. We’ve all seen it,” Janey rushes to tell her, shielding her eyes from whatever’s on Dani’s phone.
Shaking her head, Dani laughs. “That was an accident.”
“He sent it to the family group chat!” I counter. “Mom saw it.”
“To quote Kyle, it’s not like she hasn’t seen it before.” Dani shrugs. “And we all know there’s not a shy bone in that boy’s body.”
I stare, open-mouthed. “It wasn’t pierced the last time Mom saw!”
“It definitely is now,” Samantha sing-songs, trying unsuccessfully to hide her laugh. In the end, she gives up and extends a hand, whispering, “Dani, high-five, babe!” Dani grins and air high-fives her back.
“Not Kyle’s dick. Just look.” When we crowd around her phone, there’s a picture of Kyle and Peanut Butter nose to nose over a plate of bacon. I can guess who won that battle, and it’s not my brother.
“Aww, they’re the cutest,” Luna coos, and everyone agrees.
“To sexy Harrington men!” Samantha toasts again. I lift my glass, participating, but don’t drink, unable to toast my brothers’ sex appeal. “This is delicious,” Samantha compliments Dani, licking her lips to get every drop of sangria.
“Thanks. I got some fresh pineapple from the farmer’s market,” Dani replies, biting into the slice that moments ago was garnishing the rim of her glass. She’s a kitchen witch as far as I’m concerned—able to create magic from the simplest of ingredients. She also has a way with words, speaking her mind without hesitation and usually with a few curse words thrown in. “I’d give you the recipe, but we both know you wouldn’t use it,” she teases, and Samantha laughs, nodding in agreement.
“No, I wouldn’t, but can I put in a special request that you bring it to Janey’s next month too?”
Lifting her empty glass, Janey declares, “I second that emotion. And on that note, I need a refill.” She stands, heading into the kitchen, and while everyone else follows suit, Samantha stays in her chair, eyeing me.
“You’ve been quieter than usual. What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?” she probes gently.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I tell her, not meaning it in the slightest. My brain doesn’t feel particularly beautiful right now. It feels like a tangled ball of yarn, full of knots and snarls, and that stresses the hell out of me. I like things planned, organized, and scheduled—including my mental breakdowns, thank you very much.
“You know I’m literally trained to know when someone’s lying to me, right? More importantly, to know when they’re lying to themselves.” She lets that hang there, the implication landing exactly as she intends.
I glance to the kitchen, where they’re not only filling up their glasses but pulling more cheese cubes out of the fridge. With a sigh, I confess, “Feeling a bit left out, I guess. All of you are in these awesome relationships—with my asshole brothers, no less—and I haven’t had more than a one-night stand or a situationship in over a year. Just… I don’t know.” I end with a shrug, not sure how to express what I’m feeling, or at least not willing to label it aloud.
Samantha gives me a hard look. “First of all, a woman of your status does not have situationships. She ‘takes a lover’, and if a guy is fortunate enough to be allowed into her private domain” —her eyes drop to my lap pointedly before returning to mine— “he should be thankful as fuck for the gift. I would say the same holds true for a one-night dalliance.”