Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
If anything, we see how a man should treat a woman with how Grandpa is with Grams. Instead, my mom has some beacon on her that is always attracting assholes, and I’ve sworn off the idea of boys altogether, scared I’ll end up boy crazy like her and doomed to have my heart broken over and over again. I’m terrified I’ll end up as one of those cliché artists.
“I better be the only man in your pants,” Grandpa says as he follows my grams out of the office. She rolls her eyes, pretending to be annoyed when we all know she’s not. I’ve never asked, but I’m pretty sure they’ve only ever been in each other's pants.
“I’ll date in college.” I say the same thing I always do to try and get everyone off my case. It usually works for a little while, but my mom is pretty persistent.
“I think you should wait ‘til you're thirty.” Grandpa folds his arms over his chest. He gives me a wink. I can always count on him to come to my rescue. He’s been the main man in my life for as long as I can remember. I’m sure he’s not in a hurry to give up that title.
The bell over the front door dings, drawing all of our attention. My heart does a stupid flutter, and those silly butterflies take flight in my stomach when I see Booker. He smiles at me, making one of his dimples pop. He’s too damn handsome for his own good.
“Booker’s back,” Mom says under her breath. She always teases me about him and how often he comes in here.
“He’s got a sweet tooth,” I say under my breath.
“Yeah, and you're the sweet he’s looking for,” Grams chimes in. I elbow her in the side.
Even if I was open to dating Booker, I’m not sure he’d be down for dating me. I’ve heard some of the talk around school about strippers and other things when it comes to the baseball team.
The first time I’d heard one of the rumors I was sure it was a bunch of made-up crap. Booker is always sweet and respectful with me. I was wrong. I overheard some of the players talking in the cafeteria one day. It was actually Booker’s own father that hired the strippers for them. I hate the jealousy that hits me every time I think about that.
Not only because he’s getting lap dances from beautiful women that I could never compete with but that I’m clearly not on his radar when it comes to the possibility of something more. I’m more of a little sister to him.
When Booker's eyes meet mine, his smile grows. His other dimple comes out. Strippers, I chant over and over inside of my head. I will not be my mom. God love her. I’ll see the red flags and avoid them.
Booker and his almost irresistible dimples are not helping my cause. And even though he’s one big walking red flag, I can’t seem to stop myself from secretly wanting him.
Chapter Three
Booker
Say hello to the grandparents. Compliment the grandmother.
Grandfather says something back. Carrie looks cute in her Sugar Factory apron with its red and white stripes. She’d look even cuter wearing nothing but the apron bent over the counter with me taking her from behind. Don’t think that’s on the menu though.
“Afternoon, Mr. Montlain.” Despite knowing this man for all these years, he still won’t let me call him anything but mister.
“Peters,” he grumbles.
“Afternoon, Sunshine.” I grab Carrie’s grandma, Mrs. Montlain by the waist and give her a little twirl. “You look pretty today.”
She pinks up and bats my arm. “Don’t you be flirting with me or Mr. Montlain might take you out back.”
Carrie’s grandmother looks excited by the idea. I try not to think about the two of them knocking boots, but I once caught them making out by the back door around closing one time when I was picking Carrie up to take her to a party. Gramps had the missus up against the brick wall. I couldn’t sleep for three days after that because every time I closed my eyes, I’d see the two mauling each other.
“Yeah, hands off, kid.” Mr. Montlain acts like he’s not fond of me, but he gives me an extra cherry without even asking, so I can’t be that bad in his books.
“I’m just admiring the scenery.” I lean in and give Mrs. Montlain—or Sunshine, as I like to call her to annoy Mr. Montlain—a swift peck on the plump cheek. “You’re as pretty as the flowers.” I pull out a bouquet from behind my back. “Mom says enjoy.”
“Ohhh, Booker, you know just the way to a girl’s heart,” Sunshine coos. She plucks the flowers from my hands and rushes to the back to find a vase.