Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
It’s like a seesaw, the emotions inside me. I love that he’s focused on me. But I hate that he’s mentioning the end.
Ryker offers a fist for knocking. “Not your fault, buddy. It’s the world’s. People saw that pic of you and our girl, and they made assumptions. That’s how this thing spiraled. We just need to look out for each other.”
Chase knocks back. “We will.” Then he beckons me with his other hand. “Bring it in, sweetness.”
I set my fist on top of theirs. The three of us.
“This is our new pact,” Chase says, like a declaration, and the serious tone makes the snowball…snowball.
28
FLIP FLOP
Trina
The next day is my favorite kind of day. A day off.
Normally I’m all about spending a no-work day in do-nothing mode where I devour a book, hang with Aubrey, and take Nacho to the dog park.
But my sister has a baby shower coming up soon and since I’m already the screwup in the family, I can’t very well show up with a pack of diapers because that’s all that’s left on the registry. I’m certainly not going to be able to afford the thousand dollar stroller that’s on her wish list.
Which means it’s Target time before Ryker and I visit his grandmother for lunch and a pic. I’m in my guest room—AKA my clothing storage room—picking the perfect sweatshirt to go with my burgundy crop top when Chase strides into the bedroom. “You still going to Target? Need a ride?”
“Is it the overwhelming desire to spend more time with me or is it that no one can resist Target?”
“Don’t ask me an impossible question if you don’t want the answer.”
“Fair enough,” I say, and since Ryker’s off at practice, I head to the garage with Chase and hop into his electric car. He’s around this morning, has practice tomorrow, then a game on Saturday afternoon, while Ryker has a game Saturday night, with Sunday off for the wedding. Then there’s Monday. When this is all over. And I don’t want to think about Monday.
“You can put on music if you want,” Chase offers as he slowly backs out of the steep drive.
“Whoa. Multiple orgasms. Feeding me. And now, DJ controls. You’re going for the full book boyfriend trifecta,” I say.
He scoffs. “With the amount of Os you’ve had it’s more like quintet. Nope, make that sextet since I like the sound of that word.”
“Me too, but why don’t we play one of your scary books instead of music?”
As Chase shifts into drive, he shoots me a doubtful look. “Seriously?”
“I’ve never tried one but I feel like I could handle it. I’m tough.”
“If you say so,” he says, dubious. He hits play on his phone, and a deep, foreboding voice floods the car. “There was a creak in the empty tunnel, then a rattling cough. A chill swept over her. Taylor spun around, gripping her makeshift knife, before she stepped onto something soft, and wet. Oh god. The stench of the rotting corpse—”
I cover my ears, shrieking. “Stop it right now! I’m shaking!”
Chase barks out a laugh as he hits stop. “I warned you.”
My pulse skyrockets. “Put on something pleasant.”
“Why don’t you pick something, sweetness?”
With my skin still crawling, I go to his app and look for a sample of a romance novel. Something escapist and sexy.
With shaky fingers, I find one from Hazel Valentine and Axel Huxley. Ten Park Avenue. I hit play. “Look, facts are facts. Women want three things: Batteries that don’t die. A lover who knows when to shut up. And a dress with pockets.”
“Yes,” I say, joyful again. “Yes. Yes. Yes. This is a universal truth. There’s actually a store on Fillmore called Better With Pockets.”
Chase taps his temple. “Pockets. Noted.”
When we reach Target, we head in together and I call up the registry on my phone. “Let me see what’s in my price range.” Then I roll my eyes, showing him the list as we pass the women’s clothes and head to baby wear. “I am not buying her nipple cream.”
Chase cringes. “Diaper rash cream is a gift no-go too.”
“Exactly. Get that yourself. Same thing applies for pacifier wipes.”
“Are those all on there?”
“Cassie is very thorough,” I say with a nod.
“Show me the list.”
We stop by a display of sapphire blue towels, and I hand him my phone. As he reads a new tale of horror, his deep brown eyes glaze over. “You know what? This is far too complicated. Just pick something that’s not practical and it’s my treat.”
“You really don’t have to get something for my sister.”
“It’s not for your sister. It’s for you. I like doing things for you,” he says.
My heart softens even more. “You’re so sweet, especially since I’m dreading this shower,” I say as we turn down the next aisle.
“I know. It makes me sad that your family doesn’t quite understand you.”