Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Technically speaking, they had a lot to discuss, what with him being about to sell his land and everything.
And yet.
And yet.
Allison placed a hand on Row’s chest, batting her lashes with a beaming smile. She rose on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. His stone-cold expression didn’t change. His eyes scanned the square relentlessly.
“My dear, summer child.” Dylan put a hand on my shoulder, her voice sympathetic. “You’re making a rookie mistake. Allison knows you’re staring, and she thrives on drama. Look the other way and pretend you’re having fun. Don’t fall into her trap.”
I ripped my gaze from Row and Allison, refocusing it on the crowd. I tossed the empty kofta plate into a nearby trash can, feeling silly all of a sudden. In my weird hat and cheap coat and… No, you are not allowed to be embarrassed about your mittens. Mamushka made them.
But hell, Allison looked like a movie star, and I looked like…a production assistant who was about to get fired for being an eyesore.
“What they do together is none of my business.” My voice barely quivered.
“Jesus, Cal.” Kieran’s eyes ping-ponged between me and Row. “Don’t tell me you like that prick.”
“That prick is my brother,” Dylan reminded him through pursed lips.
“That’s literally the only positive trait he has going for him,” Kieran informed her with a snarl. “Sharing DNA with you.”
“Don’t be salty because he hates you.” She wagged a finger his way. “You were terrible to him in high school. He told me.”
“I’ve grown up since. He should too.”
“Why does it matter? Not everyone is going to like you.” Dylan flashed him a curious look.
“It matters because there is something of his that I want.” His jaw ticked, and he turned serious. “Badly.”
They stared at each other for a silent beat.
Oh no. They couldn’t fall in love, could they? Not with Dylan about to give birth to someone else’s baby in a few weeks. Disaster clung to the air like a stink bomb waiting to explode.
“I’m going to get us more food!” I announced, not that either of them registered my existence at this point.
I stumbled to the nearest truck and ordered pineapple pizza. If I was in a bad mood, everybody had to suffer with me. Melinda, Pete, Lyle, and Randy were standing by the side of the truck, munching on a deep-dish pizza and talking amongst themselves.
“…will do anything for that man. The woman has no self-respect,” Melinda complained. “He dumped her so fast, I didn’t have time to blink.”
“Allison is a capable woman,” Lyle disagreed. “And I ain’t buyin’ that she wants to get back with that heathen. She is probably going to convince him to give up the idea the old-fashioned way. The woman knows how to work her charm.”
They were talking about Allison and Row. I was going to throw up. I tapped my foot on the cement, waiting for my pizza. My gaze flickered back to Row and Allison. He was now staring at Dylan and Kieran, while Allison continued nuzzling into him, trying to get his attention.
Since when was I jealous? Why did I care? But the answer was clear—I had always cared. He hadn’t been just a crush back when we were kids. He had been…everything. And I had been so scared to admit it to myself after what had happened to me that I’d chalked up my feelings to a harmless crush.
Those wicked lies are going to kill you one day, Calla Litvin.
“Your pizzas, ma’am!” A pimply teenager shoved three paper plates with greasy pizzas on them toward me.
Great. I was a ma’am now. Could this day get any worse?
I mumbled a thank-you, tipped hard to rearrange the universe so my karma wouldn’t suck, and went back to Dylan and Kieran, who were now—thank goodness—discussing the safe topic of jock itch creams.
“I have a prescription for hospital-grade stuff,” Kieran boasted. “Itraconazole. You could run a marathon and chafe your thighs to death and not feel it. You know, if you ever need it.”
“Thanks for the offer, but it’s been weeks since I could reach my thighs,” Dylan grumbled. “Longer for my ankles. The only proof I still have them is that I can walk. If you can call my wobbling walking.”
“Oh. Right.” Kieran pinkened, scratching his jaw. “Well, I can always help out, if you need a…hand.”
Her luscious lips tugged in a sly smile. “My brother would murder you.”
“I can take him.”
My God. Had they just made jock itch romantic? I shoved the pizza plates in their faces, not in the mood to see other people enjoying themselves. “Here ya go.”
“Pineapple?” Kieran frowned. “What the fuck, Cal? Is this a call for help?”
“Dot, why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Dylan dumped her pizza plate on top of Kieran’s as soon as she took one look at me. The playfulness disappeared from her face. “What happened?”