Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
The line goes dead when Jed hangs up on me, and I sigh, wishing I could deal with anything else today than him. Out in the living room, I point to Alan. “Finish up that fan for me, will ya? I’ll be back as soon as I deal with Ford.”
“Better you than me. That’s why you get the big bucks, boss.” He points finger guns at me. “Pew-pew-pew.” When I stare blankly at him, he adds, “Ceiling fan, on it.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to take my instant bad mood out on my crew.
By the time I drive up to 101 Fairfield, the town house Jed mentioned, his truck is already parked out front. This is the first of the first in the subdivision, right after the main entryway, and will eventually serve as the model home once we’re to the rental and sales stage. As it sits now, it’s gorgeous, if I do say so myself—fully landscaped with sod and flowering bushes, a black metal lantern light by the wood front door, and coordinating shutters around the windows.
Not seeing anyone outside, I park and head inside. The door’s unlocked, which is unusual, but I’m not surprised Jed has master keys. I shut the door behind me, but right as I’m about to call out, I hear a distinctly feminine voice squeal, “Really? Are you serious?”
There are a few claps and then the distinctive sounds of kissing, complete with moaning.
Who the hell is in here?
“Hello?”
“Mmm—in here,” Jed’s voice booms.
I walk down the hall to the primary bedroom, much like the one I just left, and find Jed and a much younger woman with a very round, very pregnant belly. And despite calling me in here, he’s midmake-out session with her leg wrapped around his calf while he’s basically hoovering her lips into his mouth. I swear I actually see his tongue slip between them like a fat, pink slug.
Holeee shiiit! Is this the other woman Chrissy told Aunt Etta about? Here?
It has to be.
“Oh!” she says, wiping her mouth. “Hi!” she squeals in an unnaturally high voice. Untangling herself from Jed, she stays close to him, nearly glued to his side.
She’s definitely younger, probably thirty at the oldest, with long blonde hair, heavily lined eyes, and a huge, happy smile that she’s directing at Jed. Can’t say I’ve ever seen that before. Most folks barely grimace when looking at him. She’s wearing a sweetly floral, midthigh-length dress that’s swinging out below her baby bump and flip-flops with big, fake rhinestones.
Jed looks happier than I’ve ever seen him, if I’m honest. He’s still wearing the stupid cowboy hat that’s part of his signature look, a snap-front shirt, jeans that haven’t seen a day of actual labor, and snakeskin boots that cost more than a month of my salary. But there’s a light in his eyes that I don’t think I’ve seen.
Jed kisses her on the cheek, nuzzling up to her ear. “Jesse, this is Lucy. Lucy-Juicy, this is Jesse.” She places one hand over her belly protectively and holds the other out to shake mine, though she’s still nearly making out with Jed.
I lean forward and take her hand gently, correctly assuming she’s not much for full palm-to-palm contact. “Nice to meet you.”
I don’t really care, but it seems like the polite thing to say. And at least I can corroborate Chrissy’s story to Aunt Etta later.
“Surprise!” Lucy shouts unexpectedly, jumping a bit to grab Jed’s shoulders. Thankfully, he catches her by the hips so she doesn’t crash to the floor, especially in her condition. But it hikes her dress up so high that I can see the curve of her ass, which I quickly look away from.
They go back to a full-on face-sucking session like I’m not even here. After a painfully long two seconds, I shuffle my boots on the floor so they squeak, praying it’s enough to stop them.
He wraps an arm around Lucy’s waist, holding her tightly to lower her feet to the floor, and then presses a finger to her lips, shushing her. “I haven’t told him yet. Gimme a teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy minute, Lucy-Juicy.”
The high-pitched baby talk from Jed might hold the record as the weirdest-slash-grossest thing I’ve ever heard, and I will never tell a soul about it because then I would have to repeat it myself.
“Oh!” Giggling, she covers her mouth with both hands, but I can tell she’s grinning widely behind them. “Sorry, I’m too excited! This place is gorgeous, Jeddie.”
Blech. Did [she seriously call him “Jeddie”? I think I just threw up in my mouth a bit. Still not as bad as Jed’s baby talk, though.
Swallowing thickly, I ask outright, “What’s going on?”
But Jeddie and Lucy—again, puke—ignore me, too busy rubbing their noses together, baby talking, and holding hands. “Not as gorgeous as you are, my pretty girl.”