Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Well…” she shook her head. “This is big. They’re going to flip when they know you’re dating their sister. Their only sister, now.”
If I thought that it would be tough to get in there before, I had no doubt the impossibility now. To say that our family was tight knit would be an understatement. But their family? At any given moment, the entire clan of Carters knew the pulse of every single one of their family members.
I knew that because every once in a while, I’d run into them in the area—the particular suburb of Dallas we were in was quite small—and every single one of them, and us, lived here.
It was inevitable that I’d run into them.
And never once had I seen either of the sisters out, and when I had, they’d closed rank and swept her away before I even made it up to them.
I’d thought it was funny before, them being so overprotective, but now I was wondering how this was going to work out for me.
If they didn’t like the idea of me meeting their sister, how would they feel when they found out I’d not only met her, but slept with her?
“Fuck,” I grumbled out. “But she’s at their place alone right now?”
“She’s at her parents’ place,” Zip answered. “Folsom said that…”
She trailed off, not wanting to reveal all the shit that Folsom had found on the woman I was interested in.
I waved it away. “Just tell me.”
“She lives with one of her brothers or her parents when she’s in town,” she answered. “But mostly, she’s in and out of suitcases because she spends the majority of her time out of town, travel nursing.”
“What’s the address?”
CHAPTER 11
What the absolute fuckle nuts?
-Things you don’t want to hear when you’re on a plane
ANDE
The last thing I wanted to do was answer my mom’s door.
The stupid door reminded me of Addison.
Last spring, we’d had a falling out because Mom had chosen her color—powder blue—to paint it. I’d wanted to go with a bright, barn red.
Anyway, because we liked to fight about stupid stuff, we’d had a whole four hours of not talking to each other before it was decided that the inside would be painted red, and the outside blue.
Now all I saw was wasted time spent not talking to my sister when, at the time, I didn’t realize I only had a year left with her.
I ran my cool hands over my tired, puffy, finally dry eyes.
The knock came again, and I forced myself to get up off the couch where I’d been camped out for the last two hours crying my eyes out thinking about how different my life was about to be.
Instead of checking the peep hole like my family—cops galore—had ingrained in me, I yanked it open.
The moment I saw him, my legs gave out.
Before I so much as moved an inch toward the ground, I was scooped up and my body was plastered to Keene’s.
I didn’t mean to, but I started crying the instant he had me in his arms.
“I have you,” he whispered into my ear.
The sobs I’d been trying to hold back all morning rolled out full force.
And into his neck I cried, until I realized that I was being rude.
“Do you want a drink?”
He pulled back and looked down at me—we hadn’t even made it into the house, he was still holding me in the entryway, legs around his waist—and he smiled. It was a gentle smile.
A sweet smile.
A smile that I wanted to bottle up and pull out every time I needed a pick me up.
“I’m fine, honey,” he replied. “But do you mind if we sit down?”
I buried my face back into his neck, sniffles still causing my breath to hitch, and said, “As long as I can still stay right here.”
He moved toward the couch, and then we were sitting down, I was in his lap, and he was holding me even tighter.
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that.
Hours it felt like, based on how stiff I felt when I finally pulled my face from his neck.
When he saw my face, he cupped it, then pressed a kiss to my forehead, making the tears start to well up all over again.
“Are you hungry?” he asked when he pulled back.
I shrugged. “Not really.”
The frown that marred his face was cute.
“When’s the last time you ate?” he asked.
I couldn’t remember when.
“It’s been a while,” I admitted. “But I’m not hungry.”
He stood up, then we were walking into the kitchen.
When we got there, he sat me on the counter, then he was pressing buttons on the coffee maker.
I watched him, slightly amazed when he made me one exactly the way I liked it, even going as far as to choose the correct pod of coffee.
After he put creamer and sugar in it, he sat it next to me then found the pantry without me having to show him. He emerged with one of my favorite snacks, Honey Nut Cheerios.