Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“I told you before, I don’t like when someone hurts you. Even though I know you can handle it yourself, I’ll probably blunder in without thinking.”
“I know.” Pink flushes across her nose. “It’s sweet. ‘A bull trampling through a daisy field’ sweet. But still.”
Her smile is all cheek now.
Unable to help myself, I step closer. “Again with the sweet . . .”
“Pen,” June says starkly, cutting through our moment. “I’m so sorry it came off so insulting. Honestly.”
May hugs her knees and looks at Pen earnestly. “Me too. I was just upset and hurt that you hadn’t told us anything.”
“I know.” Our linked hands are sweaty now, nerves and temper making us both overheated. But she hasn’t tried to pull away. I ease a shade closer, using my body to steady her.
“Look,” June says, in the tense silence. “I don’t care about the money! That’s your business. But something is going on. And don’t you dare try to sell us on it being private or whatever. You two got engaged out of the blue! We deserve an answer!”
May nods as if to punctuate the demand.
With a sigh, I let go of Pen’s hand in favor of wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a slight squeeze of solidarity. “All right. It’s like this.”
I tell the truth, not sparing myself for adding how I begged Pen to help me. At this, she attempts to protest. But I shake my head. “I begged,” I say with a wry smile, then look at my gaping sisters. “And I all but pushed the money on her.”
“It’s just a temporary thing,” Pen says tightly. “I’m going to find a way to pay for this house on my own.”
“You totally will,” June says with feeling. “You’re very smart.”
Pen manages a weak smile. “Thank you.”
May sits back with a huff. “So it’s all a . . . a ruse?”
“You’re mad at that?” June asks with a lift of her brows.
“Of course I am!” May cries. “For a hot moment I thought August would officially make Pen our sister! I wanted it to be true!”
Eighteen
August
I wanted it to be true!
May’s plaintive wail runs through my head on repeat. It pushes through the music I turn up as I make a midnight smoothie in the kitchen. I’m strangely bereft, like I’ve lost something, done something wrong. I can’t focus.
The blender stops. I grab a tall glass from the cabinet when my phone pings a warning that the front gate has opened. Alarmed, I set the glass down and pull up the security app. Cameras show a Mercedes SUV rolling up the drive. It’s either a wealthy thief, total nutter, or someone I know. I keep an eye on my phone, and the emergency call button for my security company, as I head for the front door. I can take most guys, sure. But my contract says I gotta protect the arm. And I’m not trying to get hurt playing hero when I have a house set up for all manner of protection.
The SUV pulls up to the front. From the safety of my phone screen, I see the passenger get out. A curse rips free. Setting the phone on the hall table, I whip open the door.
“How the hell did you get past my gate?”
January smirks. “You use the same damn password for everything, little brother.” He opens the back door of his SUV and hauls out a travel bag. “You gotta stop doing that.”
Balderdash! That’s my word—complete with exclamation mark; because obviously it’s needed. And, yeah, it’s not the smartest idea to keep using the same code. Especially in this family.
“At least it’s not TacoTuesday,” I mutter.
Jan halts and grins. “I swear, sometimes I forget you and March aren’t twins. You’re both equally boneheaded.”
I let that slide and open the door further so he can come in. I haven’t seen him in person since my draft day. He looks good; his arm no longer wrapped, his weight back up instead of edging toward gaunt. He’s dressed like a ’50s film star headed for the Riviera—camel-colored wool slacks and an ivory silk knit polo. Knowing my brother, the whole outfit is bespoke, the brown loafers on his feet handmade in Italy. The man always looks effortlessly sharp.
In so many ways, he’s been my hero. Except right now. Right now, he’s on my shit list.
“Speaking of twins.” I lock up behind me. “I can’t believe you sicced the Terrible Twosome on me and Pen.”
“Better you than me. They were screeching and wailing so bad, I’d have sent them to Hawaii if they’d asked. As it is, you totally deserved their company.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a little thing called brotherly solidarity.”
“Don’t complain.” Jan sets his duffel by the stairs and looks around as if taking the lay of the land. “Mom and Dad wanted to come too.”