Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“You’d do that? Of course, you’d do that. I swear, Nix, you’re the best.” Emmy scoots closer, already preparing for what she’s about to do, and kisses my cheek.
“Nah, that’d be the James girls, without a doubt. You ready to take care of the rest?” I ask as she wiggles her way out from under the car, giving me her answer that way as I use my feet to push the crawler out from under it as well.
“Duh! That’s the best part, but don’t tell Rory. She’ll ask to do it, but she barely lifted a finger.” Emmy rolls her eyes as I do an ab curl to stand up. Little shit. It wasn’t her who got the oil filter, but she did do more than Rory, who is currently sitting in the driver’s seat, taking selfie after selfie.
“Grab the oil. I’m gonna talk to Rory for a few minutes. You remember how much to put in?” I ask.
“Yep. You better watch out, Nix. I may take one of the boys’ jobs before you know it.” Emmy’s not wrong. In a few years, I figure she’ll be right beside me at the shop, doing tasks that my father started me out on, not caring that she’s dirty or sweaty.
“Anytime you’re ready.” We bump knuckles as we stand up. I make my way toward Rory, who, as soon as she sees me, is putting the phone away. Son of a bitch. That’s never a good sign when it comes to being a teenager. Been there, done that, and probably did way fucking worse than what she could ever imagine.
“You get the shot?” I ask, grinning at the way she blushes at getting caught.
“Yeah, sorry I didn’t help any.” I shrug my shoulders. This is the usual for Rory. There’s a reason she wanted to hang out, and it’s usually because once the car is put back together, we go for a ride, no destination in sight. The windows will be down, classic rock is always blaring, and smiles are plastered on both girls’ faces.
“You okay?” I ask. Seems my girls have a shit ton on their minds lately.
“I will be. Boys are dense, you know.” Figures it would be boy trouble. I arch my eyebrow at her, a sign for ‘tell me something I didn’t already know.’
“That’s why right now, you focus on school and family. Don’t fuck around with boys who are only after one or two things.” I don’t elaborate because she scrunches her nose up in distaste. “Exactly. Now, you wanna fire the car up when your sister’s done filling up the oil?”
“Does a bear poop in the woods?”
“Say it with me, ‘Does a bear shit in the woods?’” The worry of boys is gone, and Emmy’s worry will be taken care of. Right now, there’s only one thing I’m going to let them worry about, and that’s having fun.
7
ROSALEIGH
Thank God, I have the next two days off. Minnie was able to make it into the nursery today, took one look at me, and declared I’d have Sunday off, which we’re only open a half day, but giving me Monday off as well is a total win. Chef’s freaking kiss. I must look as tired as I feel for her to say that. Tomorrow, we’re all going to Ya-Ya’s, dinner will be covered as well as dessert, and if I even thought about bringing anything with me, she’d probably chase me around the kitchen with the closest thing possible. That means another night off this week from cooking, allowing me to save a few of my planned meals for the following week, which is better for my bank account right about now. The holidays may be over, but that doesn’t mean the bills stop there, and sadly, I’m still recovering from said holidays.
I’m just stepping out of my SUV that’s parked in the driveway. As much as I hate the gas guzzler, she’s been good to me. I even apologized to her after cussing her out at the gas station. I’ve got six more months before the Tahoe will be paid off and the bank note on it will be over, allowing me to breathe easier. So, while gas is a bitch, not having a payment is smarter. I will not be trading in my old girl, no way. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. That’s when I hear the deep growl of Nix’s Camaro round the corner. “Jesus,” I breathe out, watching as he glides the car down the street with two girls inside it, one up front and one in the back. A song about giving someone a Whole Lotta Love is lighting up the neighborhood. I’m tired of refusing to admit he’s the reason I’m able to get through my hardest days, the reason my girls have the biggest smiles plastered on their faces, the reason my knees go weak. Nix is becoming my reason for everything. I shut my car door and instead of going inside, I make my way toward the three of the most beautiful people in the world with a pep in my step, knowing that after feeling Nix pressed against me earlier this week, he clearly feels something for me, even if it’s just sexual attraction. It’s been so long, too long in fact, since I’ve felt something between my thighs besides my fingers or a vibrator. Even the battery-operated variety is hard to use—the loud buzzing could wake the girls up, or one loud moan while I’m imagining what it would be like if it were Nix using the toy on me. Even the shower is an off-limits area for me to have some peace and quiet in fear of one of the girls barging in, which happens on the regular.