Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 122550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“Ease up, babe,” Dan chided Scott. “Jilly has her reasons for not wanting to call the police.”
She did. She just couldn’t tell them what they were. Sometimes, she hated living in this house and having to keep secrets.
And other times, you love it. Because it gives you a connection to Regent.
Not that she ever saw him.
Well, other than when she’d first moved back to New Orleans and had been staying at home. Before Lowell. Mama had been out for the night when he’d called because his sister had to use the tunnels to escape the FBI in a hurry, and Regent was coming here to get her.
Since then . . . crickets.
But just the idea of seeing him, yeah, that’s what she lived for.
God. That sounded pathetic.
She wished she’d never met Lowell or moved in with him. Nothing good had come out of that relationship. Even worse, now she had to deal with all of this.
She’d lived with him for eight months and had thought he’d made good money as an insurance broker. She’d had no clue about any of this.
Now she knew he’d been racking up her credit card debt as well as taking out personal loans by faking her signature.
This was . . . it was ridiculous.
Mama was off traveling the country with her new boyfriend. And Jilly was left with this mess that Lowell had created.
“Do you think he goes around doing this all the time?” she asked. “To other women?”
“Yep,” Scott said, folding his arms over his massive chest. “Which is why he has to be stopped.”
“I can’t call the police.”
“Have you got any money, love?” Dan asked with concern.
“A small bit.” If she didn’t eat and didn’t cool the house, she might be able to pay some of these off. Over about five years. Maybe ten.
With a groan, she leaned over the table. “I’m doomed.”
“What about a mortgage on this place?” Dan asked. “Does your mom own it? Would she let you do that?”
“We don’t own the house.”
“I’d hate to lose you as a neighbor,” Dan said. “But perhaps you could find a cheaper place to live.”
“You could move in with me, dearie,” Mrs. Yards said.
Sasha nodded.
With a sigh, Jilly straightened. “Thanks, you guys are the best. But my family has lived here for generations, and the owners give Mama a really good rate on the house. I don’t even pay anything.”
Sort of lies.
Sort of the truth.
Sometimes she lost track of what was what.
“You might need a second job,” Sasha said, looking at Jilly pointedly. “One you can do at night so it doesn’t interfere with your other job.”
Was she suggesting that Jilly . . . that she become a stripper like Sasha? That was nuts.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure this will all work out,” she said, smiling.
“Damn it, Jilly.” Scott pounded his fist on the table, making her jump and her heart race.
Don’t show any fear.
He didn’t mean to scare you.
She glanced up to see that Mrs. Yards was watching her closely. If anyone had any idea of the monster her father had been, it was this woman.
“This isn’t one of your books,” Scott snapped. “There isn’t always a Happy-Ever-After. Not unless you make one.”
Everyone stared at Scott in shock.
Shoot, she was going to cry again. What was wrong with her?
Scott wasn’t wrong though.
Jilly loved to read. Books had never let her down. Sure, sometimes, she got upset over what happened to a character. But she only read romance, so there was always a happy ending.
It was guaranteed.
Unlike your life. Where there is no guarantee.
Scott’s right.
Time to grow up and live in the real world.
“You’re right,” she said, interrupting Dan who was busy scolding Scott. “I have to stop thinking that everything will work out and make sure that it does. I need a second job. Being a librarian doesn’t exactly pay well.”
“Dancing at the club does,” Sasha said. “You can work a couple of nights a week and pay off all these bills in probably eight to ten months.”
That would be amazing.
And it was completely impossible.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m not confident or gorgeous like you.”
“Jilly, you’re a knock-out,” Sasha replied. “You just have to stop hiding.”
Jilly didn’t really know what she meant. Maybe it was the oversized cardigans and long skirts she liked to wear. Or her habit of letting her mousy-brown hair fall forward to cover her face. Or that she spent most of her life with her face in a book.
Any of those would work.
“Wait. A strip club?” Dan asked, sounding like he was choking. “You want Jilly to work at a strip club?”
“Jilly?” Scott asked. “Our Jilly? Librarian Jilly? Who barely shows any ankle, even in the middle of summer, Jilly? You want her to strip?”
“I was a stripper once,” Mrs. Yards said. “Once I was hired to dance on this private yacht. Some rich royal owned it. Can’t say who it was, but he was a great tipper. And the food was amazing. That’s how I bought my house. But after that, I met my beloved Teddy. And he wasn’t fond of me stripping. So I just used to do private shows for him. Really got him going, especially when I tied him up and used a flogger on him.” She sighed. “Good times.”