Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Words failed me. For the first time in my life, it occurred to me that my vocabulary might be insufficient. Needless to say, Dallas had not packed a single item. There wasn’t even a suitcase in sight.
As if sensing the impending storm, Shep and his wife materialized at her door.
Shep clutched the frame. “Remember, Costa, honey attracts more bees.”
I waltzed to Dallas’s bed, perching on its edge. Her hair—thick and wavy and impossibly soft—framed her face. I skated my knuckles over her spine. She fussed, her exposed skin pebbling with goose bumps. A soft moan fled her lips.
“Wakey, wakey, Shortbread.” My voice glided over her skin like velvet. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
She was so disoriented, she actually followed instructions for once, opening her eyes. Then the small serene smile on her face twisted into a frown. I didn’t break character, though.
I picked up her hand from under the covers and slipped the 20.03-carat emerald-cut engagement ring onto her finger. “Sleep well?”
Behind my back, Shep released a relieved exhale.
Dallas eyed me skeptically, ignoring the ring. “I guess. Sucks that I woke up, though.”
Trust me, sweetheart, I am disappointed, too.
“Our plane departs in forty minutes. We should leave right away.”
“Fine.” She rose, duvet pooling around her waist. “Let me just pack—”
“Sorry, Shortbread. As I said before, you had two hours.”
“Stop calling me Shortbread. I have a name.”
“One that is arguably more ridiculous.”
“Dude, your name is Ro—”
“Do not call me dude.”
“Lord. Okay, go away. I’m packing.”
“You’re coming with me right now, or I withdraw my engagement offer.”
Her eyes flared. “You think that’s a threat?”
“Certainly.” I stood, fishing my phone from my pocket to call an Uber. “If I retract now, you’ll be a ruined, sullied girl with no prospects of marriage to a respectable Southerner. One infamous for getting fingered by a stranger at a ball, only to be dumped by two men in twenty-four hours. How do you think that’ll work for your family? Your reputation? Your life goals?”
She didn’t answer. She understood the gravity of her situation. I snatched her by the elbow and escorted her downstairs. Gentle but firm.
She stumbled into the hallway, now fully awake. “At least let me get dressed.”
“You’re perfect just the way you are, darling.”
I valued punctuality. My wife didn’t even know the definition. Yet another reason our marriage would be a miserable one. There would be no time to sign the prenup. We could do it when we arrived in Potomac, I supposed.
“I need clothes. I need underwear. I need—”
“Better time management. As for all the rest, you’ll have a credit card and access to shopping centers and the Internet. You’ll survive.” Much to my dismay.
We descended the stairs. The Uber would be here any minute now. Shortbread swung in the opposite direction, trying to beeline for the shoe closet.
I tugged her back to me. “The rumors were wrong. You aren’t lazy at all. When incentivized, you’re a ball of energy.”
She faced me, fuming. “I’m not leaving here without shoes.”
“Care to bet on it?”
“Let my sister put shoes on.” Franklin galloped toward us, fists waving in the air. She rained those little balled hands down on my chest. I didn’t feel a thing.
“She had two hours to put on shoes. She chose to watch Cheaters.”
Mr. and Mrs. Townsend hovered before the landing, arguing.
Natasha covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “Oh, Shep, who cares about our reputation? Stop this nonsense right away.”
He patted her back. “You know as much as I do that Costa is her best bet right now.”
“I really hate you right now.”
Shortbread threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Don’t worry about me, Momma. I’ll be okay.”
“Oh, honey.”
More wailing, arm-clutching, and general theatrics. I looked away. Not because I was uncomfortable by the Jerry Springer production, but because I wanted to see through the window if the Uber had arrived. It had. Oliver and Zach were probably already on the plane.
“Time to go.”
Shortbread swiveled to me. “Can I at least take a book to keep me company on the flight?”
I couldn’t help but notice her face was dry and stoic. Her entire family cried behind her, but she had not shed one tear. A strange pang of respect zinged through me.
I opened my mouth to say no, then realized she’d try to make conversation if she was bored. “Pick a classic. Your head is already full to the brim with nonsense.”
She rushed to the library and returned a minute after with Anna Karenina tucked beneath her bicep. Shortbread made one last attempt to retrieve her shoes, but I scooped her up and hurried out the door, depositing her into the Uber before she could get away with more bad behavior.
The driver put the car into gear and pulled from the curb when the vehicle slammed against something. Or rather, someone. It sounded serious. What did they feed the stray cats in Georgia?