Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
“Amelia!” Skye exclaims, coming over with her arms open. “How are you? That’s Andrew, Mason’s father.”
She hugs me quickly, and I just stand still. I’m then scooped up and engulfed by Andrew in a hug that lifts me off the floor. “Well hello there, little lady. Welcome to the nuthouse. Also known as the family, our pack, our village. How are you?”
He sets me on my feet and looks me in the eyes.
“Uh, um… Hi Mr. Quinn.”
He laughs good-naturedly. “Andy. Andrew. Or Daddy. She’s a looker, Mase.”
“She sure is, “ Mason says, “Though she won’t be fuckin’ callin’ you Daddy.”
The room breaks out in laughter, including Andrew who looks pleased with himself.
Red creeps down my face and neck. I have a brain, I’m not shy, but you wouldn’t know either of these things by my reaction so far.
Skye tugs my hand, pulling me to the breakfast bar where the two other women hop down from the stools. “Don’t mind my man. He’s a flirt, but he’s harmless.”
“Harmless to every female other than you, my love,” Andrew says and holy cow that’s swoony. He smiles wide at her.
She chuckles. “Lucky me. Cicely and Bailey, meet our Amelia.”
My chest flares at not only her description, but also the warmth in her voice as she declares me theirs.
“We meet again,” Cicely greets, smirking.
I don’t get a chance to reply before the one called Bailey pipes up.
“You look so much like Ivy. Or I guess she looks like you since you’re the older sister. It’s great to meet you. We talked on the phone.”
“Oh, hey,” I say, feeling like I’m under a microscope. “And yes, older by a year to the day.”
Skye points to her cooler on the counter. “I brought snacks. And beverages. Girl-time this afternoon!”
“Beverages?” Mason asks, voice laced with suspicion. “What sorts of beverages?”
“The fun kind,” Skye replies, wiggling her brows. “Now, shoo. You have stuff to do and it’s girl time.”
Mason rolls his eyes as he moves over and hooks an arm around my waist, pulling me tight to his body and making my heart play hopscotch.
“Be back as soon as I can be,” he says, looking into my eyes. “Enjoy your girl talk. Be careful with that moonshine and be good.” He drops a kiss on my lips and I’m about to pull back when one of his hands catches my jaw so he can deepen it.
Before I can do anything else, he’s moving away. I’m swaying for a second before I grab the counter to steady myself.
“I’m gonna go putter on the boat some,” Andrew says. “Nice to meet you, Amelia. Welcome. I’m sincere about that, darlin’.”
“Um…” I manage, but that’s all I manage.
Andrew gently squeezes my shoulder as he passes me before he drops a kiss on his wife’s throat (making it hard to swallow because I know exactly where he kissed her. That raspberry colored set of teeth marks), pulling what looks like a happy shiver from her before he follows Mason out the door.
Married as long or longer than Mason’s been alive and still like that? That’s a dream and a half.
I find myself trying to get a look at Bailey’s and Cicely’s throats. I don’t see those marks on Cicely and Bailey’s turtleneck is in the way.
“Punch!” Skye exclaims, pulling me from my daze.
I see her lifting a big, empty covered pitcher from the cooler.
“So early?” Bailey asks. “It’s just after noon.”
“It’s five o’clock some place or another.” She removes the lid and pours a container of crushed orange ice into it. And then a covered glass container of fruit chunks is dumped in.
“I haven’t even had breakfast,” I say.
“Is my son not taking care of you?” she demands, looking perturbed. “That’s not like him. I also put more food in. Moved that manicotti bake to your freezer so it won’t spoil. I hit the supermarket in Drowsy Hollow today. Got some great steaks on sale, too.”
“Oh,” I wave nonchalantly, “It’s just that I was up all night at that clinic and only slept a little while upstairs from it and then he had to do some stuff, so…” I trail off, realizing I need to stop talking, because I sound like I’m defending my kidnapper.
“There’s fruit in there. And orange juice,” Cicely says as Skye dumps more liquid into the jug. “Your moonshine punch can probably qualify as breakfast, huh, Skye?”
“To pirates, maybe,” Bailey puts in. “We have lots of snacks though. We’ll hook you up.”
And I can’t stop the laughter from bubbling up when Skye enthusiastically dumps an entire large brown jug-style bottle of amber liquid with a pink skull and crossbones label on it into the orange concoction.
She stirs the fruit-filled booze pitcher with a wooden spoon before popping the lid on. She then rolls her sleeves, washes her hands, and hauls more containers and Ziploc bags from her cooler, stacking everything on the counter. Bailey washes her hands and lends a hand arranging things on a large cutting board she’s pulled from one of Mason’s cupboards. Cheese, fruit, meat, crackers.