Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“All right,” he said, wrapping his towel around his hips. “Just know, my money is ours.”
“Noted,” I called dryly as he left the bathroom.
He’d mentioned sleeping with a lot of women more than once, and it made me wonder just how much of a fuckboy Curtis had been before we met. From everything I’d heard and the teasing his family had dished out, he’d rarely slept with women more than once. He was almost forty. That was a lot of women. It was probably why he’d gone out and gotten tested before he’d even broached the subject of ditching the condoms we’d been using.
To be fair, I could count on one hand the number of guys I’d slept with, but I’d still gone to Planned Parenthood for testing before we’d stopped using them. That day had been fun, trying to vaguely explain that I had errands to run when the kids wanted to come with me. Curtis had laughed his ass off as I’d detailed the hoops I’d jumped through, trying to leave the kids behind when they usually tagged along. Even Dylan had been suspicious.
“You know, it’s gonna be weird not watchin’ Dylan play football,” Curtis said when I came out of the bathroom a little while later. “He’s played since he was little.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Just thinkin’ about his trip. It didn’t really go the way he planned, since all his friends were doin’ two-a-days while he was there. I think he was a bit jealous, which is insane because those practices aren’t any kind of fun.”
“I’m sure Isla was happy about that, since he was supposed to be there to see her,” I said wryly. “Why isn’t he going to play on the team at the high school?”
“He said he didn’t want to,” he replied, leaning down to tug on his boots. “He’s been playin’ with the same group since he was ten. I think he just didn’t want to join a new program.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“I thought I had one more year,” Curtis said with a sigh. He watched me as I dressed. “He was good, but unfortunately, he wasn’t college-level good. Fun to watch, though.”
“I bet. Jess stopped doing jujitsu when they were thirteen, but they never really did the tournaments and stuff. No interest. Finn would rather gnaw off his own arm than do a sport.”
“He seemed stoked when we were talkin’ about pullin’ out the dirt bikes,” Curtis noted.
“True. That may be the exception.”
“I’ll talk to Draco about it again, get somethin’ planned.”
“Summer’s almost over.”
“There are these things called weekends,” he said with a grin. “Kids don’t have to go to school.”
“You think you’re funny,” I mused, pulling on a tank top. “It’s cute.”
“I’m fuckin’ hilarious,” he countered, getting to his feet. He walked over to me and dropped a kiss on my lips before heading toward the door. “I’m gonna go see how Jess is doin’.”
“What do you mean?”
“Heard them go outside earlier,” he said as he swung open the door. “Weren’t they changin’ the oil in your truck this mornin’?”
“Oh shit.” I’d totally forgotten I’d asked them to do it.
“Good thing we’re takin’ the bike today,” he joked as he left.
“They know what they’re doing,” I called to his retreating back. “They’ve done it before!”
When I got downstairs later, everyone was outside, and the front door was wide open.
“Finn kicked the friggin’ oil pan,” Jesse told me angrily, pointing to the large dark splotch on the driveway that was covered in white powder. “We don’t have any kitty litter, so I used baking soda.”
“Shit,” I mumbled, looking at Finn.
“It was an accident,” he said defensively, his cheeks red. “I was running—”
“Yeah, because you stole Dylan’s hat,” Jesse snapped. “Even though he told you not to.”
“I was just joking,” Finn shot back, his voice wobbling. “I was gonna give it back.”
“He told you not to!”
“Enough,” Curtis said, his voice calm. “Good call with the baking soda, Jess.” He looked at me. “We’ve got some Dawn dish soap?”
“Yeah. Finn, run in and grab it, pal.”
Curt caught Finn as he started toward the house and yanked him into a hug with one arm, scrubbing his other hand over Finn’s hair. “Accidents happen, bud,” he said quietly. “No harm, no foul. We’ll clean it up.”
Finn nodded miserably and ran into the house.
I opened my mouth to tell Jess to stop coming down so hard on Finn, but Curt beat me to it.
“Cut your brother some slack,” he said, his voice still calm, almost easygoing. “He’s gonna do stupid shit. So is Dyl, and so are you. When you get dragged for it, it just makes you feel like shit. He can’t go back and change it, yeah? What’s the point in makin’ him feel like shit?”
“Heard,” they replied quietly.
Surprisingly, I didn’t have anything to add. I took a moment while we were waiting for Finn to come back outside to consider the fact that it didn’t bother me when Curtis corrected my kids. I wasn’t sure if it was because I trusted him or if it was the fact that he’d never said anything that made me feel defensive on their behalf. It happened slowly, once in a while reminding Finn not to run in the house or Jess to clean up their shoes from the entryway until just the day before when Jess had snapped at me and he’d firmly told them not to talk to me that way. He’d never once raised his voice or even spoken in anger. It was always calm and measured.