Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Before that happens, I want to enjoy this. I’ve got time for fun, and let’s be honest, I can’t get pregnant so, there’s that. When things blow up, I just hope my heart won’t be crushed and James and I can be adults, go back to being distant stepsiblings and never let our parents know what happened in the early days of our blended family.
My heart hurts already thinking about it, but here I am. Nonsensical Nancy, not thinking things through.
“So if it’s not lingerie,” I say, trying to distract myself from the logistics of my complicated condition, “what is it?”
“You’ll have to open it and find out.”
I grunt in frustration. “Give me a hint then. One clue.”
“No.” He chuckles, a deep and resonant sound. “It’s a surprise.”
“Urgh. When can I open it?”
“When you finish eating.”
I push the tray of food away from me. “I’m done,” I say, but it’s a lie. I’d eat that whole plate full and the three eggrolls but I’m more excited about what’s in the package right now.
“You are not done, sis. You need to be in the Savage’s Clean Your Plate Club in order to get your surprise. Now, eat.”
More red flags but, I do want to eat it, so I shrug, pulling the plate back and digging in.
“So,” I cover my still full mouth with my hand, swallow, then ask, “were you like a hockey prodigy? Have you been playing since you could walk or was it a later in life discovery?”
He chuckles, crossing his ankle over his knee, his biceps flexing as he sets down his takeout container and swipes his hand through his hair. “Somewhere in between. I was probably five when my dad got me started. I wasn’t that great to be honest.”
“What?” I gasp in mock horror. “Say it isn’t so.”
He nods, running his open hand down his chest, making my insides turn to goo. “I was more into the fighting. That was my outlet. Pretty soon, coaches didn’t care much about how I played, I was the goon.”
“You are not a goon, you could never have been a goon.”
“Goon is like the bouncer, the big dumb guy who can protect the better players. The one that will take a beating, give one out, bleed and take the fall for the win. I was good at it. I liked to fight.”
“But, you’re a great player, right? I do not know much about hockey but you are like NHL, and maybe team captain, you can’t just be good at fighting and get all that on your resume, big brother.”
He pops his lips together on a long sniff, then answers, “True. I evolved, but I didn’t get the nickname savage for my skating skills. Although, I am considered a pretty boy because I still have all my own teeth.” He points to his mouth on an exaggerated smile.
“Huge bonus.” I nod, finishing the last of my food and putting the plate on the coffee table. “I like your teeth. Your whole mouth actually.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. I can’t wait to give your mouth some training too. I’ve got a big stick that needs your attention.”
“Hard to do from here,” I say, my body heating, wetness gathering down low as my nipples draw tight.
I change the subject for a minute, trying to make sure my food settles okay. I ask him more about the trip, his hotel, and he asks me how things are going here, and I tell him about how Azra has passed on some VA work my way and I could use the money for sure.
“If you need money, you only have to ask,” he says with a frown, and I shake my head.
“I need my independence, and besides it’s not about the money. I can’t just sit here in this house for six months. Azra is teaching me some spreadsheet stuff. It’s wildly boring but I need more marketable skills.”
He sniffs. “What about your singing?”
“Oh, that’s just for me, for fun. Sure, would I love to be on stage in front of a sellout crowd on my own record setting concert tour? Maybe. But I don’t like people looking at me when I sing, so that’s a bit of a stumbling block,” I say, stretching my legs out straight and arching my back, which is starting to ache from sitting too long. “But,” I poke my fingers together in a gesture of childlike excitement, “can I open my package?”
“That depends,” he says, licking his lips, reaching down to the front of his athletic shorts to adjust himself. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“A little word, sis. Can I open my package…”
I smile, biting into my bottom lip. I could be bratty right now. It might be fun. But I really do want to know what’s in that package. “Can I open my package, please?”