Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“I’m sure there’s someone out there looking for a guy to fight with over movies and restaurants. Maybe put that on your Tinder profile?”
He swats his hand, chuckling. “I stopped using those stupid dating apps years ago.”
“You’re not going to find the future Mrs. Hornsby hanging out in your mom’s basement.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” He finishes his beer. “I’ve had a few girlfriends over the years. Nothing serious. A couple of regular hookups. I actually, uh . . . it feels weird saying this, but, um, I was hooking up with your brother’s ex for a while last year.”
“Which one? Berlin?”
He nods, dragging his thumb across his lower lip. “She’d just moved back to town, and I ran into her at one of the bars on a Friday night. We got drunk, started reminiscing; she ended up coming home with me. We hooked up a few times after that and talked a bit. It didn’t work out, but I just thought it’d be wrong not to mention that to you.”
“Couldn’t give a shit less about any of my brother’s exes,” I say, before realizing that isn’t true.
I give a shit about Anneliese.
I check the time on my phone, swirl back what’s left of my beer, and give Bryce a nudge.
“Going to head in and grab another. You want one?” I ask.
“Yeah, if you’re headed that way.”
Once I’m inside, the sound of Lynnette’s voice trails from another room.
“You know, underneath it all is a guy with a heart of gold,” she says. “You just can’t see it with all that damn ink in his skin. It’s like his armor.”
I find them standing in the hallway, outside the study.
“Were your ears burning?” Lynnette asks.
“Something like that.” I rest my hands low on my hips as my gaze passes between them.
Anneliese offers a smile, though her stare is deeper than usual, as if she’s looking at me in a different light. I can only imagine what else Lynnette filled her head with while they were venturing around the house on their own.
“Well, thank you for the tour, Anneliese.” Lynnette brushes her hand along Anneliese’s arm. “I’ll let you check your emails. If, God willing, Bryce ever gives me a grandkid, I’ll be sure to pass your naming services along. He swears if he ever has a son, he’s naming him Stiles . . . after the character in that Teen Wolf movie. He used to watch it with his dad back in the day, and so I think it’s sentimental to him. But this day and age, the only Styles people think of is that boy band kid . . . what’s his name?”
“Harry?” Anneliese asks.
“Yes, Harry Styles.” Lynnette wrinkles her nose. “Anyway, hon, I’ll let you get some work done. Lach, you got any more of these?”
She lifts her empty beer can.
“Yep. Was just about to grab another round,” I say, leading her to the kitchen as Anneliese heads into her office and closes the door behind her.
“She’s nice,” Lynnette says when we return to the back deck, cold beers in hand. I give one to Bryce and take a seat on the top step. “Not sure what the hell she saw in your brother, but other than that, she seems to have her head screwed on straight. She’s smart, well spoken, friendly, driven . . . Bryce, why can’t you find a girl like that?”
“Girls like that don’t want a man who’s working on out-of-state job sites most weeks of the month,” Bryce says.
“Girls like that just want a nice, honest, trustworthy guy,” she says.
“But maybe one that doesn’t live in his mom’s basement,” I say before adding, “No offense to either of you.”
Lynnette punches my shoulder. “You act like he lives there rent-free.”
“He doesn’t?” I ask.
She frowns. “Hell no. He pays rent and half the utilities. I’m not stupid, and I’m sure as hell not raising a mooch.”
“Still not helping me land any nice girls,” Bryce says. “It’s probably time I start looking for a place of my own anyway. Just been putting it off.”
“Yeah, for ten years,” Lynnette quips. Leaning toward him, she pinches his chubby cheek. “As much as I don’t want to kick my baby bird from the nest, it might be the only shot I have at getting a grandkid.” Turning back to me, she says, “What about you, Lachlan? You ever think about settling down one of these days?”
Bryce chuffs. “That’ll be the day.”
“It’s not something I’ve thought about, no.” I crack my beer.
She throws her hands in the air in frustration. “You two are at that age when you think you have all the time in the world, but I swear you’re going to blink and you’ll be forty. And everyone in your dating pool will either be married or thrice divorced and in the midst of a midlife crisis.”