Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
“Doubtful.”
Trent has a pasta colander for a filter. He’s not a suck-up. He was never admonished by his mommy and daddy for being rude. He believes he’s above reproach, that no matter what he does, he will still be handed the golden goose on a silver platter.
So I wasn’t shocked when he added, “The name makes the man, and anyone who calls him Nova is saying he’s a pussy.”
“Trent,” Jake snapped.
“Jacob.” Trent smirked back. “Don’t be such a prude.”
Phoebe almost threw her dinner roll at Trent. “The only pussy at this table—”
“Is who?” Trent taunted.
“The strong man makes the name.” Varrick intercepted the conversation right before I could. “The weak man would let the name make him.”
“Don’t quit your day job of leisure,” Trent said into a strong sip of merlot. “I don’t think you’re going to make it as a poet, Varrick.”
That “family” dinner was only a few days ago.
Varrick hearing Trent call his son Nolan has him slipping an unsubtle glance of annoyance across the grassy field. Then he checks on Nova, who slings the shotgun on his back. Either Varrick is ensuring he’s okay or he wants Nova to see that he cares about him.
I wonder if he’s been trying to appeal to each of us. Now his oldest son. He’s attempting to find a connection. A way to reach him.
See, we both can’t stand that prick. I’m on your side. I have your back, son.
To manipulate him?
I’m naturally skeptical. Always mistrusting of others. It’s near impossible for me to believe Varrick is so genuine in his outreach toward us.
His desires feel thin yet sticky enough to make me question myself. He wants to get back at the godmothers. Revenge. He wants to use us to pull more cons. Power.
Still, I can’t shake how easily he’s handing everything to us.
We want Trent to be taken care of? Done.
We want the father figure we’ve never had? Done.
We want pure, relentless honesty that the godmothers didn’t give us? Done.
This stinks of raw manipulation to me.
On the flipside, could he just be this fucking caring?
Yeah.
He’s definitely up to something.
“I’ve been thinking,” Trent says quietly to me, and I track his gaze over to Oliver, who strolls lackadaisically on the far left side of the field. He chews the end of a twig he pulled off a branch about a half mile back.
I have a great sense of where this conversation is going, and I already hate it. “Yeah?” I act more interested in my gun.
“You think they’ve fucked?” Trent whispers. “Oliver and Hailey?”
He can’t get over her blushing at Oliver. It’s starting to become a stupid fixation. I grimace at him, toning down what I want to be a threat. “She’s my sister, man. I’m not contemplating her sleeping with anyone.”
Trent groans, “Please don’t be a stick-in-the-mud like my baby brother. Having Jake everywhere I turn this summer is bad enough. I don’t want my best friend becoming him, too.”
“No worries there.” I lower my shotgun while we hike toward a meadow of wildflowers. “What does it matter if they’ve hooked up anyway? Hailey seems free-spirited. You like to do your own thing, not be tied down. Maybe you can make a deal with her.” I scan the cloudy blue sky. “An open relationship or something.”
Trent is fixated on Oliver. Barely listening to me. Great. “It’s almost hard to picture her fucking anyone.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever tried to picture it,” I note more harshly.
He laughs to himself, under his breath, then tips his head toward mine. “If Hailey is as amenable as Varrick says, then I should be able to get her to do anything I say.” His eyes glimmer at the idea.
My blood is on fire. I raise my brows at him. Waiting for him to look me in the fucking eye. When he does, he asks, “What?”
“High standards. I thought you had them.” I know he doesn’t. “You’ve slept with models. You called my sister a two, and you want to watch her have sex? That’s a little…” I cringe at him.
He tears his gaze off Oliver. “You’re probably right.” He pats my back. “Always keeping me in check, Grey.”
Not nearly how I’d love to.
We exchange a brief smile, and he drops his arm. “Speaking of the prude,” Trent says as Jake comes over to our shooting zone. We’re in a walking line.
Jake ignores the comment. “Varrick wants to talk to you about something, Trent.”
“You bore him already?” Trent tries to reach up and pat Jake’s face, but Jake bucks backward to avoid the belittling gesture.
“Bye.” Jake points him over to Varrick on the far left.
“Sorry you have to suffer with Jake,” Trent says to me, then adjusts the strap of his shotgun on his back. “Be back soon.” He pats my shoulder blade again. We watch Trent head over to Varrick.