Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Oh my God—I think I died and went to Heaven,” he groans as I unload the tray, putting both steaming plates and the tea in front of him. “This looks fucking amazing. Uh, sorry for the language,” he adds, looking at me.
I can’t help laughing.
“That’s okay—Cookie will take it as a compliment that his food made you swear,” I tell him. “Go on—dig in. I have to take care of a few other customers but I’ll be back in a little so we can talk.”
I don’t have to tell him twice. He’s already spearing a bite of the meatloaf as I walk off, a little smile playing around my lips. I can’t believe how lucky I am—my big brother has finally come home!
And I intend to keep him with me as long as I can.
5
CONNOR
The food at The Pie Shop is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. I don’t say that lightly, either—before I went to prison, I led a privileged life. I’ve been to restaurants with three Michelin stars and steak houses where there was nothing under a hundred dollars on the menu. But after three years of prison slop, the food in front of me is more than gourmet—it’s fucking ambrosia.
It feels strange to eat with metal silverware again. In prison, we always got plastic—it’s way too easy to stab someone with a metal fork or sharpen a spoon into a shiv. The metal feels unfamiliar in my mouth but whatever—this is just part of the taste of freedom.
I inhale both plates and drink the sweet tea which Sunny keeps refilling. It’s not too sweet, which is nice. Just as I’m finishing up, she comes to sit across from me in the red vinyl booth and puts down two pieces of pie.
“There you go—Strawberry Streusel, just like I promised you,” she says, smiling. “And that other one is today’s special pie—Blueberry Bacon.”
“Blueberry Bacon?” I repeat, raising my eyebrows. It sounds like a strange combination.
Sunny gives me an impish grin, her pert, freckled nose wrinkling.
“Doesn’t sound very good, does it? But it is, I promise. Go on—try it.”
I’m getting really full, but I’m not about to say ‘no’ to her pie—not after all the letters she wrote me describing the many different kinds she makes. I’ve been wanting to eat her pie for years now—which sounds really dirty, but get your mind out of the gutter. I’m pretending to be her big brother.
I take a bite of the Blueberry Bacon pie and I’m surprised at how delicious it is. It’s made with fresh blueberries in a light, flaky crust sprinkled with tiny, crispy bits of bacon and the whole thing is topped with fresh maple whipped cream. It’s fucking amazing.
“This is fucking amazing,” I say to Sunny as I shovel in another bite.
“See, I told you!” She grins at me, looking so damn adorable I want to lean across the table and…and what?
She’s supposed to be your little sister, I remind myself again. But there’s something about her—something about the way she felt in my arms when I held her. And something about her scent too—it made my inner Wolf perk up. Which doesn’t make any sense—she’s human, I’m sure of it. It had to be Kane’s father who was a Were. If his and Sunny’s mother had any Were blood at all, it was probably diluted.
But the way her soft, curvy body felt against me when she launched herself into my arms and her warm, feminine scent…I try to push the forbidden thoughts away.
I’m sure if anybody else had run at me that way, I would have gone into defensive mode at once. Living in prison, you learn to watch your back. But Sunny didn’t feel like a threat—she felt warm and she smelled so sweet. I can still feel her eager kisses all over my face…
“…ask if my friend Annabelle can come cover my dinner shift,” Sunny says and I realize that I missed something she said.
“Uh, what? Sorry, I was focusing on the pie,” I lie and take a bite of the Strawberry Streusel—it’s even better than the Blueberry Bacon.
“I said I’m going to get someone to cover my shift so we can go back to my place and get reacquainted,” Sunny tells me.
“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your work,” I protest. “I really just stopped by to say hello and try some of your famous pie.”
“You want to leave already?”
Sunny pouts—an absolutely adorable expression on her sweet face. She pushes out her lush lower lip and makes sad eyes at me. Then her expression changes—gets more determined.
“You don’t think you’re just going to eat my pie and then walk out on me, do you?” she demands. “I don’t think so, big brother—I’ve been waiting years for this reunion and it’s not nearly over yet.”