Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
She laughed, her barbecue smeared smile wide. “You’re like an evil villain, Uncle Brady.”
It was my turn to laugh at her assessment. “No, just a desperate bullied kid who used my skills to better my life. That’s what I want for you, Lay. It’s what Marnie would have wanted too.”
She nodded and leaned forward with an evil smile on her face. “Maybe I’ll steal her boyfriend or worse, her best friend!”
I froze for a moment before laughter took over. “I want to be terrified of that comment, but the truth is I’m kind of proud.”
Layla preened before she reached for a spare rib, shoving it in her mouth and followed up with a handful of French fries.
“Thank you,” she said around a mouthful of food.
“You’re going to give me premature gray hair, aren’t you?”
Her smile faded into a fake innocence as she shook her head. “Me? No. Never.”
Chapter 10
Toni
Sitting in traffic on my way back to Brady and Layla felt odd. Surreal, even. I spent the entire weekend burning out half a dozen batteries to thoughts of the hot nerd whom I didn’t really know, and doing something I never do, daydream about the cutie. What in the hell kind of spell had he woven around me that I’d spent the weekend inside my apartment instead of hitting the bars and finding a hookup buddy?
“Ugh, gross,” I growled as a guy in a shiny red pickup truck flicked his tongue out at me suggestively and wiggled his brows. “I don’t think so, dirtbag.” I flipped the guy off and gunned it at the green light until he was just a speck in my rear view mirror.
The mansion looked the same as I had when I pulled away on Friday evening, putting as much distance as I could between me and Brady. That kiss had stayed with me for far too long. The truth was, it still lingered on my lips and in the deep, dark recesses of my mouth. I wanted the promise that kiss offered, but I also knew I couldn’t have it.
Wouldn’t.
It wasn’t just dangerous to my heart, it was also a professional risk.
Yeah, I couldn’t risk it, so instead I took my frustrations out on my vibrators, coming to the feel of his mouth and body on me all weekend long. Hmm, maybe I need to invest in some rechargeable devices, cuz living under the same roof with Brady days a week will give me all kinds of ideas.
“No time for that, Toni.” I gave myself a mental pep talk as I drove up the long driveway and shifted my car into park. “This is my job. Work. Not a dating site or a hookup app. Work.”
I stepped inside the house and it was relatively quiet given that a seven year old lived here. I crept inside to avoid alerting anyone—mostly Brady—to my presence. It was useless though, because halfway up the staircase the sound of small footsteps drew my gaze to the top of the steps. “Hey, Layla.”
She flashed a happy smile. “Hi Toni. I finished my story. Wanna read it?” Her expression was so eager and excited with a pinch of hesitation that it made my heart squeeze. “If you don’t want to,” she began but I stopped her.
“Of course I do. Hand it over, little girl.” I held out my hand with a grin.
“You sure?”
I nodded. “I am. Are you?”
“No,” she admitted easily.
“All the more reason you have to give it to me, then. Art is terrifying for the artiste.”
She laughed, shoving it at me before she took off, as if I could read it quick enough to give her feedback in the next five seconds.
I smiled at her retreating form and I realized that I missed Layla this weekend. She was a sweetheart who hadn’t let the world get her down, no matter how hard it seemed to try.
I made my way to my room where I took my time unpacking and tidying up the place. After a quick, hot shower, I changed into comfortable loungewear before I curled up on the bed to read Layla’s story. It was smart and engaging, and it felt as if it was written by a far more mature and experienced storyteller. I couldn’t help but cry as I came to the end of the tale.
“I have to tell her how good it is. Now.”
I rushed from my room, barefoot and disheveled, in search of the budding artist, but it seemed as if she had disappeared. “Layla!” She didn’t answer and I jogged down the stairs, searching the media room and even the pantry, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found. “Lay?”
My gaze landed on Brady at the grill with a long silver spatula in his hand. He wore a plain white t-shirt that hugged all of his muscles perfectly. His biceps bunched and flexed with every move and his back muscles danced against the shirt as he flipped burgers and steaks on the grill. “Toni, you’re home.”