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)
“Mom! Did you hear the car? I helped with that!” Emmy is pushing Rory’s seat up, folding her inside the Camaro so she can get out of the backseat. I’m wearing my standard uniform—a tee shirt with Minnie’s nursery emblazoned on it, khaki shorts that hit mid thigh, and sneakers—but judging by the look on Nix’s face, you’d think I weren’t wearing a single stitch of clothing.
“I saw, and pray tell, what did you do to help Nix do to his Camaro? I’m pretty sure it sounded that way since I was a teenager.” Emmy looks at me like I’ve uncovered gold. Yeah, kid, I’m old, but Nix is older, aging like fine freaking wine even if he is only a few years older than me.
“He’s had the Camaro that long? Geesh, you two are older than dirt. Don’t worry though, Mom, Nix, you two don’t look a day over eighty.” I see the grease under her eye, another smear across her jawline, proof that she did work on the car today.
“Well, isn’t that the nicest compliment you ever did say.” She gives me a quick kiss to the cheek as her form of saying hello.
“It was fun. Do you think I can spend the night at Katie’s tonight? Now, before you say anything, I know Ya-Ya’s is tomorrow, but we won’t stay up too late, and I’ll be ready when you come to get me, promise!” Emmy is a master negotiator, or manipulator, whichever you want to call it.
“That’s fine. I have the next two days off work. Are her parents picking you up?” I ask. We’ve always had an agreement with most of the parents the girls hang out with—one parent drops off, the other picks up, and vice versa.
“Yep. Now, all you have to do is get rid of the older one, then you can enjoy a night of calm and tranquility.” I roll my eyes at her statement.
“Go pack your bags, and be nice to your sister.” She looks at me, points her finger to her chest as if saying, Who, me?
“Come on, Rory, don’t you have plans to make, too, or boys to text? Gag me with a stick,” Emmy responds about boys. I was hoping I’d have a few more years, maybe a year at best, before that started happening. The talk we had last summer obviously needs to be refreshed if boys are texting. Emmy could be exaggerating, but that doesn’t seem the case when Nix gives me a look of his own, one that has him clenching his jaw. Message received, big guy.
“Hey, Nix.” I walk up to him, rest my hand on his chest, going to the tips of my toes to give him a kiss on his cheek. Bold move? Probably, but neither of the girls react in a way that makes it awkward, not even when Nix wraps his hand around my hip, returning the kiss to the other side of my cheek.
“Hey, Leigh. That talk needs to happen,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. The only problem is, he’s been saying this for the past week, so which conversation is he referring to?
“Tonight?” I respond. Goose bumps slide down the length of my body, reaching down to the soles of my feet when I can’t hold the stance of being on my toes any longer.
“That’d be a good idea.” I step away. Nix lets my hip go. His heat surrounding me is now gone, leaving the ghost of a sensation in its wake.
“Rory, are you planning on living in the Camaro?” She’s yet to get out of the car, whether that’s to give me time to talk to Nix or if there’s another reason, like being glued to her phone. I’d make more of a stink about it if she weren’t so focused on school and sports Monday through Friday. On the weekends, she deserves to be a kid. Although it may come off a little selfish, teenagers have that trait engrained in them by the time they hit thirteen.
“I’m not opposed to living in it. Maybe I can become one with the car?” she replies.
“You’re screwed. Do you realize what she’s after?” I turn to Nix. He’s already shaking his head. Thankfully, we’re on the same page. Not for nothing, but he wouldn’t even allow me to drive his Camaro and still has yet to this date, not that I’ve asked in the recent years.
“Nope, she knows it’s not going to her. We had that talk before. I don’t care the amount of stars in her eyes she gives me, or the pouting. It’s not happening. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if, God forbid, something happened.” Seriously, the only amazing thing David gave me were two girls; the man in front of me has given me so much more.