Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“At this point, I’d pay the bill myself.” We place it where the girls told us it needed to be before they scurried off. I’m sure they’re in the back, figuring out what needs to go where next.
“Don’t even bring that up. You may not be attached to a female, but I am. Genevieve would get online so fast to hire some young studs, make drinks, and sit back to watch them do all the heavy lifting. And my woman would be right there with her.” I can see this, all too fucking clearly, and while Trey might think Genny would be the ringleader, he’s wrong. Sienna would make the whole scenario come to fruition, making the calls, setting up a time, pulling out lawn chairs until the couches were moved in, and the icing on the cake would be the cocktails and appetizers they’d eat while watching. I keep my mouth shut. Egging Trey on is a good idea until you’re the one walking backwards and he drops the shelf on you.
“Oh, good, you’re almost done.” Sienna walks around the corner with a box in her arms. Genevieve is moving in right behind her, a few pieces of pottery in one hand and plates held against her chest with the other.
“Yep, what else do you two have up your sleeves?” Trey asks Sienna. My eyes go to Genevieve’s, making quick work of the situation since she’s doing some topsy turvy type scenario with the plates, bowls, and coffee mugs. Genny has got it going on with her long curly red hair, blue eyes, skin reminiscent of porcelain, and a smattering of freckles along her cheeks, the tops of her shoulders, and a few doting her chest. It’s rare to get up close and personal to her because she keeps her distance from most people, Trey and me included. Still, I’ve come up behind her, rescuing her from one mission or the other, and got the view for myself. She’s a fucking knockout. The beauty of Genny is, she has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Can you bring in the couches? There should be two, along with the coffee table. The end tables, we can grab.” I head to Genevieve while Sienna points to the back room, where they do the majority of their work. How they’ll swing having a storefront, making and painting pottery all while keeping website orders going is going to be a large task. And I have no damn idea what they’ll do, but I know one thing for sure: there’s a lot I’d do for my sister, but working for her is one of the things I won’t.
“Oh, n-n-no,” Genny says as her footing slips. The clanking of stoneware spurs me into action. Sienna warned me the first time she brought her best friend home that she didn’t do well around big crowds, loud noises, and clumsiness came with the territory. I’ve rescued her from countless moments like the one she’s about to have, and each and every time Genevieve would shy away. Today, it’ll be a fuck of a lot harder to do in a place this small.
“Amos.” Trey is too far away, and I’m two feet from her side. One long stride later has me off-loading the dishes from her hands. A collective sigh seems to echo through the store, though no one is so much as saying a word.
“Thank you, again. Maybe I should just stick to behind the scenes,” Genny says, looking at Sienna. She may be appreciative of me saving her from making a mess, but her eyes are on my sister.
Genevieve Stuart’s baby blue eyes will eventually be locked on mine. When that will happen, is anyone’s guess. For now, I imagine all the ways I’m going to have Genny like I have been since she moved to Arrowleaf after college. I’m as old as Trey, and she’s as young as Sienna. Some might say the age difference is too damn many years, but they can kick rocks, pound sand, and do whatever the hell they please as long as they keep their mouth shut.
“You’re welcome,” I say to the room. Genevieve and my sister are having a conversation without words, a nod here, a quirk of lips there. I get it. Trey and I have our moments when one can predict what the other will do next. Still, it’d be nice to know what is running through Genny’s head right about now.
I’m in for the shock of the damn century. I about gave up all hope, ready to keep my dark and illicit fantasies to myself. Any time Genevieve is at the farm or I’m at Two Chicks, she usually avoids any interaction with me, acting like I’ve got the bubonic plague. Sienna had already given me the lowdown on Genny before she stepped foot inside our house; still, I figured after this long, she’d open up a little bit at least.