Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
But she was done for the first time he’d flashed that gorgeous smile of his. Dimples. It wasn’t fair. That accent plus dimples? Come on, God, couldn’t you be a little fairer when you’re distributing things? Why was it always people like Bethany who got the looks and the money? And the guy.
“You’ve really lived up to your potential. Weren’t you voted ‘Least Likely to Ever Get Boobs’ in high school?” Bethany cracked up like it was the best joke she’d ever heard, wiping at her eyes. At least Calla had managed to make her smudge her perfect make-up. Bethany had little black mascara tracks running down her cheeks.
It was on the tip of Calla’s tongue to shoot back: weren’t you the bitch on the yearbook staff who gave me that name?
She and Bethany had hated each other ever since they started facing off in barrel racing competitions throughout high school. Bethany couldn’t stand the fact that a nobody like Calla could wipe the floor with her in the arena. Out of all the times they went head to head, Bethany only beat Calla once. And even then, the bitch had done it by cheating.
But did Calla confront her or kick her teeth in like she wanted to after finding her horse overfeeding on an extra hay sack drenched in applejuice? This on top of the year when she was a freshman, all courtesy of Bethany starting rumors about Calla and the English teacher being in a lesbian love affair.
No. Calla had been an adult about it. Always. She’d turned the other cheek and gone on to compete as well as she could with her hay-heavy horse. Bethany’s smile had been vicious as she claimed her blue ribbon.
Calla wished she was the kind of person who could face down the town bully. But she hated confrontation. She had ever since she was a little kid and would hide under the bed when her parents had screaming matches. Then Mama left when Dad got sick. Not before that one last fight, though, where she shouted about how she was still young and there was no reason to let Dad’s illness ruin two lives.
“What about Calla?” her dad asked. “What about your daughter?”
Silence. Then, “I couldn’t bear watching her get sick too.”
“There’s only a fifty percent chance she has it. It’s just as likely that she’s perfectly fine.”
“And you expect me to live like that? Hoping on a coin toss? No. It’s better if I leave now.”
“Better for who?” Calla had never heard her dad’s voice so bitter.
Another long silence. “I know I’m a coward. I don’t expect your forgiveness. But I’m just not strong enough for this. Goodbye Edward.”
Then she left. The house got real quiet after that. Years and years of quiet, her dad only talking to her when there was something to be done around the ranch.
All of this meant Calla didn’t say a word to Bethany as she turned to slam back out the door.
“Just admit it,” Bethany straightened up. “Your dad raised you like the son he always wanted. You couldn’t even get that right. You lost him his ranch. Now what are you going to do? No man is ever going to want you.”
Calla froze at the door, an alien fury burning in her chest.
Too far.
Too much.
She’d woken up that morning only to say goodbye to the only home she’d ever known.
All the land that had been in her family for three generations was officially sold to none other than Bethany’s father, Ned. He’d been trying to buy them out for years. Dad always swore he’d never sell his land to a Cunningham. Turned out that between the failing economy, a few years of serious mismanagement, and Dad’s worsening illness, the choice was made for them.
Not that Dad saw it that way. Last time she went to visit him at the home, he’d refused to even see her. If he’d had his way, they would have fought till the day the bank came and foreclosed on the place. And then Ned Cunningham would get the property anyway—at the bank auction.
Screw it. Calla was tired of keeping quiet and not causing waves. She swung back around to the blonde little Barbie wannabe.
“Well if being a woman means being a vindictive bitch like you, guess I’m happy the way I am. Besides, I don’t need a man to validate my existence.”
Bethany’s mouth dropped open before she scrambled for a comeback. “Good, because the only man who’d want to fuck you would be a gay dude.”
“Well at least I know I deserve better than a drunken hookup in the bathroom of a bar.”
Bethany looked like she was about to spit fire. “Liam and me are meant to be. Not that I expect some he-she freak like you to understand. No one will ever want you. You’ll die old and alone.”