Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 505(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 505(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“Shoot!” Flynn says suddenly, tapping me on the back and turning around. “I forgot the cookies in the car. Be right back.”
I swing my hips hard and lunge for his wrist as he retreats, but it’s too late. He’s down the steps and passing the couple of spots to the car and walking around to the trunk in no time.
The front door swings open, and my nervous jaw clamps closed like a Venus flytrap.
“Uh, hey,” an attractive, dark-haired man I’ve never seen before says, looking around me curiously. “Can I help you?”
Everything inside me tries to speak, but I’m, for all intents and purposes, mute for the foreseeable future. My throat feels thick and my vocal cords paralyzed. I don’t know what to say, so I hope Flynn hurries the fuck up or something.
The door swings open behind the now narrow-eyed man with a little puff of spring wind, revealing another man I actually know, walking down the hallway toward us.
The five-hundred-dollar casino chip gifter. Flynn’s brother Ty.
When my eyes lock on him with what must be recognition, the man at the door turns toward him and groans loudly. “Oh. She’s with you. I should have fucking known.”
Without another word or even a hello, the man retreats back down the hallway, smacking Ty on the shoulder as he goes. Ty approaches the door and me, his eyebrows drawn together curiously.
With a long look up and down my body and face, he finally shrugs. “Well, you certainly are my type. Did I ask you to come here tonight?”
“No,” I manage to murmur with a shake of my head. God, apparently, he was so drunk that day, he doesn’t even remember me. “I’m—”
But he already has me by the elbow and pulls me inside. “Come on. Let’s head to the kitchen and get a drink. We’re about to start dinner soon.”
I twist frantically to look over my shoulder, searching for Flynn with wild eyes as the door closes behind me.
Oh my God. How did you manage this one, Daisy? Not only have you entrapped one Winslow into marrying you for a green card, now you’ve got another brother thinking he’s dating you?!
Before I know it, we’re standing in the center of a bustling kitchen, and there are people pretty much everywhere. Loud chatter, laughter, and the sounds and smells of dinner being made overwhelm my senses.
“Well, dang!” Another attractive guy with light-brown hair and blazing blue eyes I recognize as another one of Flynn’s brothers shouts at the top of his lungs. “I thought that was gonna be Flynn at the door. For once, I can actually attend family dinner because we’re not working around Winnie’s schedule and doing it on nights I’m at work. I’m ready to enjoy this feast!”
“Stop whining, Jude,” a beautiful—almost ethereally, really—trim brunette with smoldering green eyes tells him. “You know Flynn will be here any minute. He’s reliable.”
Ty laughs beside me, and a whole new wave of panic renews as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Unlike the rest of us, right, Sophie?”
She shrugs. “You said it. Not me.”
Instantly, it feels as if everyone’s head turns in our direction, and I almost choke on the saliva in my throat from the pressure of it all.
What are they going to ask me? Who do I tell them I even am? How in the fuck am I going to explain this little moment when Flynn finally comes inside?
They’re going to think I’m a tart, for cripes’ sake.
But the stares are temporary, and to my surprise, everyone is back to their own conversations and tasks. No questions. No insults. No recognition, really, whatsoever.
If anything, his family notices my presence, and then…moves right the fuck on.
What the heck?
“Come on, everyone! Food is ready!” an older woman I think might be Flynn’s mom calls out. “Time to eat!”
I watch as a few women begin to carry platters of food into the dining room, chatting happily with one another as they go, and I’m torn between asking if they need help or burrowing into the nice hardwood floors of the house.
Overall, the current sentiment makes me feel as if I’ve either turned invisible and I don’t know it, or they couldn’t care less who I am.
Ty puts his hand to my lower back, thankfully not in a creepy way, and leads me into the dining room. Flynn is still nowhere to be seen, and I’m starting to get really close to bolting. I mean, I’m a fake wife. If I leave burning rubber on their floors on my way out the door, it’ll only be really weird for another three months or so, right?
Ty pulls out a chair for me, and without much of a choice other than the Road Runner scenario, I take a seat in it. Flynn’s voice finally—thank God—breaks through the chaos, and I bob and weave my head like a fucking emu to get a look at where he is.