Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 116760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
He sighed. “Bebe, I don’t know if he had head lice.”
“What?”
“He was scratching his head, but it probably wasn’t lice.”
“Then why would you say that?” she wailed. Was he trying to give her a heart attack?
She couldn’t believe he would do that.
Corbin just shook his head and wrapped his arm around her. “Let’s get you home and in a bath. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. Maybe it will stop you from doing anything else crazy for a while.”
Yeah.
She hoped he didn’t bet anything on that.
12
“Right, when we get inside, what are you going to do?” Corbin asked her as they approached the front door.
They’d just been to the grocery store.
Three days had passed since the skateboard incident and he still felt on edge. He’d been in a panic when he’d seen her go down and not get up.
What he felt toward her hadn’t abated while he’d been avoiding her.
In fact, it only seemed to grow worse with every day that passed.
At least after the skateboarding incident, she’d taken things easy for a day. Well, easy for her. She didn’t seem to stop much.
“Can’t you do it?” she asked him, pouting slightly.
Damn, that was cute.
It didn’t help that she was wearing her hair in two braids and had a pink velvet tracksuit on.
She looked adorable.
However, he couldn’t let that sway him. “Nope. You have to learn to do this yourself.”
“Are you sure you can’t do it for me? This time?”
“This is your security system, girl,” Hayes said in a low rumble. He was getting grouchy. Hayes didn’t like people very much. So, going to the grocery store was torturous for him.
“He’s right, Bebe,” Corbin said firmly. “It’s not difficult.”
“No, but it’s pointless. No one is after me. This has Mommy dearest and her manipulations written all over it.”
“You seriously think your mother would make up these threats?” Hayes asked. “And we’ve seen them; they’re real.”
“You don’t think she could create them herself?” she asked. “Or likely hire someone to make them.”
They were both silent. Did she really think her mother was capable of that?
Bebe let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Sorry. I know that’s too much to process. I have baggage when it comes to my mother.” She turned to the door and unlocked it before stepping inside. Then she disarmed the system.
“Good job,” he told her.
She snorted but didn’t say anything. They followed her inside after she unlocked and opened the door. She shut and locked it.
“Right, now rearm it for home,” he ordered.
Grumbling to herself, she rearmed the system and set it to home.
“See?” he said. “Not that hard.”
“I need a beer.” She stomped into the kitchen.
“Does she really think her mother made those threats?” Hayes asked.
“I think the question is, could Barb have made those threats?”
Hayes grunted. “Surely not. But it’s been proven time and again that people are fucked up. Maybe her mother is. Or maybe Bebe’s just a spoiled, lonely, little rich girl with mommy issues.”
“Jesus, Hayes.” Corbin ran his hand over his face. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
Hayes was silent. Then he shook his head. “Maybe before I met her. Before I got to know her. But she’s too . . . authentic. She works hard. She’s polite to people. She’s never once asked us to do anything for her, even when she fucking well should. So, nah, I don’t think that’s what’s going on. She’s not like they write about her on social media. But who believes that shit anyway?”
“Wait. You read social media?” Corbin gaped at Hayes.
“I’m not completely out of touch with what’s going on in the world, you know. I’m not a dinosaur.”
“Yeah, but you are an antisocial prick who hates most people.”
“What? I am not.”
“You growled at that sweet little old lady who stepped up close to you while you were looking at the cheese today.”
“Yeah, well, she needs to learn about personal space.”
“Uh-huh.” Corbin walked into the kitchen, finding it empty.
Strange. But he guessed Bebe must have gone upstairs to get changed or something.
Maybe she’s just a spoiled, lonely, little rich girl with mommy issues.
Ouch.
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
Bebe paced her bedroom, trying to push those words out of her mind.
But they just wouldn’t leave.
Spoiled.
Lonely.
Mommy issues.
The last one was true. She wouldn’t even bother to deny it. She had deep-rooted mommy issues, and she was certain if they knew about her life growing up with that woman, they wouldn’t blame her for those issues.
But as for the rest . . .
Bebe knew what most of the world thought of her. She’d seen the stuff about her on social media. She knew she shouldn’t look, but it was like a sickness. The more she tried not to look . . .
The harder it became to stop herself.
And once she started reading . . . well, she couldn’t stop.
However, she’d forced herself to build a thick skin. Those people online were strangers. All they knew was what they saw or read. So they couldn’t make an accurate assessment of her as a person.