Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“He’s…” I frowned, trying to figure out how to describe him in a way that was neither a lie nor alarming. “...not much like Jake.”
“He’s not?” Christi tilted her head and waited for more. When I hesitated again, she prompted, “Like, physically? Or personality-wise?”
“Both. They don’t look anything alike. Jake must take after his dad completely. And they definitely have different personalities.”
“That’s too bad. Jake’s the best.” Christi leaned over to grab a chip out of the bag on the coffee table. She popped it in her mouth and crunched down, but I could tell she was still waiting for me to go on.
“He is,” I agreed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong, but there’s nothing very warm and friendly about his uncle. Like if Jake ever ran a company, he’d be the type who went to company happy hours and knew when people’s birthdays were, right?”
“Right,” Christi agreed. “Did you know he still texts me on mine?”
I didn’t know that, but I wasn’t surprised. Jake was the type to love you, love your family. “I think his uncle is more the type to grudgingly give you a couple hours off the day before a big holiday and maybe have his secretary sign a congratulations card with his name when you get married or have a baby.”
Christi made another face before popping another chip in her mouth. “Sounds lame.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I murmured. In fact, lame was the last thing I’d say about Dominic White. It would be like calling a tiger or some other terrifyingly powerful predator lame. He warranted a thousand other adjectives, none of which could quite capture the ferocious magnetism of his physical presence.
“Oh, you wouldn’t, would you??” Christi asked, her hand pausing halfway between the chip bag and her mouth. She was watching me more closely now. “What would you say then?”
I shrugged my shoulders, uncomfortable with her scrutiny. If anyone could see through what I was trying to hide even from myself, it was my sister. My born-three-years-later twin who always seemed to know what I was thinking even before I did.
“You like him,” Christi said, her brown eyes widening. The chip fell from her hand onto the coffee table. “No, not like.” She frowned, trying to put her finger on it. “You think he’s hot.”
Trust my little sister to boil it down to its base essence. I wished it were that simple. Thinking Dominic White was hot was like thinking the sun was bright or that wildfire season was scary. It was undeniable, inarguable, and a complete thought unto itself. It required no further analysis. What I really thought about Jake’s uncle was much more complicated.
“Yeah,” I said because it was simplest to agree and hope she’d leave it at that. “I mean, he is. Not Jake-hot, but still.”
I hoped she’d take the bait and follow the red herring but invoking Jake’s name didn’t distract her one bit. She knew me too well to think I was still carrying a torch for my ex three years later. Jake and I had really been over before college ended, though we waited for the easy excuse of there being an entire continent between us before we officially called it.
“Not Jake-hot, hmm?” Christi tapped her long nail against her teeth while she stared at me. “What kind of hot would you say he is then?”
“It-doesn’t-matter-because-he’s-my-boss hot,” I said. “Untouchable-for-every-reason-in-the-book hot.”
“Oh my God, that’s the best kind,” Christi sighed dramatically and fell back against her arm of the couch, hand to her heart. “I miss untouchable hot guys. The ones you shouldn’t want to want you. Makes it so much better when they do.”
“You’re nuts,” I said, trying to laugh it off, even though Christi’s words made me think about Dominic touching me, which made my heart race and my palms clammy.
“Come on, haven’t you ever been with a guy like that?” Christi raised her head curiously. “I mean, I know you haven’t been with a guy like that, but surely…”
“Nope. That’s your type, not mine.”
That was true enough, and Christi knew it. She liked bad boys, and I liked them good. Like Jake. Though even a very good guy like Jake had gotten impatient by the end of our PG-13 relationship.
“Mom and Dad still in your head?” Christi asked me softly.
I was glad she’d moved off the topic of Dominic, but this wasn’t exactly what I wanted to talk about either. Our parents were religious. Religious nuts, according to Christi. They’d sent us to private schools that equated premarital sex to being a damaged rose. We’d all laughed about it. About the priest who crumpled the flower in his hand and glared at us over his closed fist. Would you want a ruined rose?
But Christi hadn’t just laughed, she’d talked back. And then she’d lost her virginity at fifteen and had been waiting for me to follow suit ever since.