Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“That’s great. He came by this morning and told me he’d be in your room for the time being, to check him out so we could use his room for other guests.” My eyes are probably rolling to the back of my head. Leave it to Boston to make a decision like that without bothering to ask or at least relay the memo first. “Honey, you don’t look so good.” Shit, if I pass out, Boston is going to be upset, and I’ll end up in the hospital. His tendency to overreact is like no other, and of course, my medicine is in my room upstairs.
“Yeah, well, don’t come any closer with the butt nuggets, please.” The thought of her cracking an egg alone has me swallowing. Trying to do the whole mind over matter thing is not helping. “I need to tell you something.”
“Oh, oh, oh, oh my gosh. How didn’t I know? I’m an idiot. The signs we’re all there. You’re pregnant!” I watch as she plops the eggs on the counter, none too gently, then her small form bustles around the massive stainless-steel island, and her arms are wrapping around my body, squeezing the life out of me. “My baby is having a baby. I’m going to be a grandma!” Mom’s excitement is contagious. I should have known better than to be nervous. It wouldn’t matter if my child’s father weren’t in the picture; this is Mom high on life.
“Isn’t this a charming moment.” There’s a steady clap with each enunciation of the word. I roll my eyes. Fortunately, dear Daddy doesn’t see it with my back to him. I’m already a loser in his eyes. Following in his footsteps was never for me. Hell, it’s not like he works anyways, living off the rent from the buildings his dad owned before he passed away. Slum Lord, that’s exactly what Daddy is, so bad to his tenants it’s a wonder they still live there. “How endearing. Our only daughter pregnant without a man in sight, no ring on her finger, and she’s still working for her mother when she could be making a name for herself with the Boudreaux name.” Still he claps. Mom’s body goes ramrod straight. Her hug leaves my body, hand going to mine, squeezing it in our way to be smart. Damn it, where’s my pseudo knight in shining armor when I need him?
“I’m not sure why you’re here, Noah, but you should leave.” One day, Mom will get a restraining order, and if I have any say, it’ll be happening today. My hand slides into the pocket of my shorts, pulling my phone out, unsure of his intentions. Him being here this many times, it certainly smells fishy.
“I’m not leaving, Isabelle. We’re still married, which means I can be here if I want. Unless you’re willing to put this whole divorce issue to rest.” And now I’m going to be sick for a different reason entirely.
“Ha, never. Leave now, Noah, or the cops will be here to escort you off my property. And I’ve got no problem asking for a restraining order.” Mom points at the direction of the door. I finally turn around to look at the man who’s my father. There is quite literally no love lost.
“You’d never do that. It would disrupt your guests. Isabelle never rocks the boat, or anything for that matter.” His voice gets louder. That insinuation is insulting to say the least. I shouldn’t be surprised; it’s the Noah Boudreaux way.
“What is wrong with you? Are you so spiteful, full of hate, that you have to ruin every single good thing in our lives?” Anger consumes my body, causing my mouth to fly off the handle. Today has been a good day, starting off with celebrating a win in my book by waking up via an orgasm with Boston’s fingers thrusting in and out of my wet center, thumb sliding along my clit, making me gasp, all the while feeling his hard and naked cock pressed against my hip. It got better from there, too. No getting sick, talking to my best friend, another person who’s happy for me. Of course, the fun sucker Noah Boudreaux would ruin Mom and me celebrating.
“You ungrateful slut. If it weren’t for me, you and your mother would be on the street. Now look at you, working at a glorified hotel, pregnant, and where’s the father?” Dad’s voice rises an octave, no doubt carrying throughout the first floor. With the way LeBlanc Inn is set up, I’m sure it made it through the vents where every single level heard his anger. A slut? Seriously? Me? He’s ridiculous. If anyone is a slut, it would be dear old dad here, the male version and the whole reason why Mom is currently in a legal battle that won’t stop.