Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
I glance down at my watch and see it’s almost time for Honey Buns to open. “Let’s get this shit over with.” I kick off the fucking high heels to walk out to Clay’s truck. I’m not sure how women wear these treacherous things.
Clay insists on driving me to the bakery. “I want to make sure you don’t have any means of escape.” He shrugs and I flip the asshole off.
“You do realize I’m going to get revenge on you,” I warn my older brother.
“I’m looking forward to you trying.” Fucking asshole.
After parking in front of the bakery, Clay glances at his watch before turning to me. “It’s show time.” My fingers clench at the urge to punch the smirk off his face.
“You’re going to have to feed the meter all day long.” I can’t believe my cheap-ass older brother took the day off to stay here and watch this train wreck.
“Nope.” He grabs his fucking camera and tripod out of the back seat of his truck. “Craig said he’d give me a pass today.”
“How nice of him,” I mutter and step out of the truck. It’s time to face the music like a man. Clay takes several pictures while I struggle to stuff my size fifteen feet into these ridiculous shoes. “Where in the hell did you find heels in my size?”
“I had them specially made.” Of course, he did.
I grab his shoulder and hold on tight to stabilize myself. With the extra height, I tower over my brother, but he still has the advantage. These goddamn heels are horrible. “Walk slower.” I’m planning on making Clay suffer all day long with me. Once I get through this, I plan to get revenge on my brother.
“Come on,” he complains but slows down a little. “It can’t be that hard to walk in them.”
“Why don’t you give it a try.” I dig my fingers into his shoulder harder than necessary. “Then we can talk.”
There are several people walking down the sidewalk, and all of them stop and stare as Clay and I walk by. “What?” I ask as Mr. Eldering holds the bakery door open for us with a gleeful look on his face.
“It’s not every day you see a six-foot-nine French maid walking down the street.” The retired mailman claps his hands together. “I’m going to post this on social media so no one misses out.” Fucking hell.
I forget all about him and my asshole brother when my mate glances up and sees me standing in front of the counter. Her expressive blue eyes widen as she bites her luscious bottom lip to hold back her laugh. “Uh. Why are you dressed like a French maid…” she pauses and leans over the counter to get a better look at me, “hooker?”
I blow out my breath, ready to take my punishment so I can get back to winning over my mate. “It’s a long story.”
Bethany breezes through the kitchen door and comes to a stop. My mate’s older sister holds her stomach and laughs until tears flow from her eyes. “You outdid yourself with this,” she tells Clay while pointing at me. “It’s even better than Thorne wearing a pink polka dot bikini top.”
“I’m the king of brotherly torture.” The asshole slaps his chest as my inner bear demands I get revenge for this shit.
Thorne and Mabel walk in a little later, and my oldest brother heads straight over to where I’m sitting at the end of the counter. “You did this to yourself.” He points out the obvious. “At least you’re not in jail.”
“I’m thinking a private room and three meals a day is sounding really good right now,” I lie to him. I’d rather have toothpicks shoved under my fingernails than prance around in this getup, but at least I’m a free man with all the time in the world to woo my mate. In fact, I’m very grateful that the front of the maid costume hangs low enough to hide my hard-on. Ever since I got a peek at the tight black leggings hugging my mate’s luscious ass, I’ve been sporting an impressive woody.
“Wow.” Mabel walks behind the counter and puts on her apron then points at the front door. “Look at that.” I follow her finger and see she’s talking about the crowd lining the sidewalk, waiting for a glimpse of my outfit. Laughing at myself, I shrug. “I can tell it’s going to be one of those days.”
“No doubt,” Mabel agrees.
Over the next nine hours, every single fucking resident in Honey Pot Hollow comes into the bakery to see me in all my French maid hooker glory. While they laugh and take pictures, I mentally plan my revenge on Clay and Sheriff Craig Dalton.
When the crowd finally slows down, Thorne takes his mate and leaves. I ignore the two customers staring at me while Bethany and Cora fill their orders and lean against the counter, hoping the torture is almost over.