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)
Mom’s jaw drops as she makes a sound of displeasure. “Don’t talk to me like that, Jesse Sullivan. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out . . . and I don’t mean to dinner, young man.” Her head’s swiveling, and her expression has taken on that “try me” threatening vibe that all moms magically master on day one. She’s the one trying to marry me off in record time, yet somehow, I’m the one in trouble.
Wren’s fighting back laughter, barely succeeding at keeping her lips pressed together.
“Sorry,” I say just to move on. “Mom, focus. Remember when Chrissy came in here snooping around, you said that you knew exactly where to send her because Lucy placed a delivery order?”
She’s slow to answer, looking at me like I might implicate her in a felony crime if she answers that question honestly. Or maybe she’s just still pissy about me calling her out. “Yeaaah?”
“Is Donny still delivering pregnancy treats to her? Where is she now?”
Mom huffs out a laugh, her face morphing into something akin to offense. “Not like you suddenly decide, midpregnancy, that something else is tastier than my Blue Balls lemon-blueberry cake pops.”
I look to Wren, silently asking if she’s sure of her plan. This could backfire big-time, and if it does, she’ll be the one in trouble. And Jed will most definitely pursue every legal avenue to make Wren pay. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to use some illegal options too.
But badass that she is, she steps right up to Mom’s display case. “Can I send a batch of Blue Balls to Lucy, please? I have a private note to include. Inside the box, where only she’ll see it.”
“Oh, shit, Wren. Are you sure about that?” Mom asks, looking extremely uncomfortable with the idea.
Wren nods. “Yes, ma’am. Completely sure.”
Mom leans to the right to look around Wren and meet my eyes. “Jesse, if you don’t marry her, I will. Let me box up some balls and call Donny for a special delivery!”
Mom seems almost giddy about the whole thing now that she’s seen Wren’s game face. But I’ve known all along that my little bird is awesome. That’s why I’ve had so many doubts, because Wren is the woman so many people want, the total package of brains, beauty, and the perfect amount of crazy to keep things interesting. And though I’m not chopped liver, there aren’t a whole lot of guys who’d live up to being at Wren’s side long-term. She shines so bright, which can be intimidating as fuck, but I want to support her in that. Hell, I’ll do what I can to help her shine even brighter if that’s what she wants.
I just hope that after all this is over, she doesn’t realize that I’m just a dirty guy who works with his hands, hasn’t read a literature book since high school, and is too possessive to be totally sane, and decide that I’m not good enough for her.
While we wait for Mom to work her magic, I wrap my arms around Wren’s shoulders and pull her back to me. “So how do you feel about hummingbird cake?” I tease. “Remix style?”
She laughs quietly, probably so Mom doesn’t hear her. “I figured you’d be more of a ‘classic vanilla cake’ kinda guy.”
I chuckle, too, but go dead serious when I tell her, “I’m a whatever the fuck you want if I’m lucky enough to get a ring on your finger, Birdie.”
She goes silent and frozen in my arms instantly.
Fuck, man. Way to scare the shit outta her.
But it’s the truth.
Chapter 25
WREN
“Anything else, Ms. Pamela?” Maria asks Mom as she does a last-minute check over the charcuterie board and needlessly readjusts the pitcher of sweet tea and glasses.
Mom looks to me for the answer. “This is your show, honey. You need anything?”
“A Xanax?” I suggest, half-serious. But what I do is take Jesse’s hand for support. He entwines our fingers, then lifts our hands to place a soft kiss to the back of mine. It’d be sweet and romantic, except for the wink and cocky grin he shoots me.
He’s not being arrogant about himself, but rather is that confident in me. Even if what I’m about to do is by far the most dangerous, and potentially the stupidest, thing I’ve ever done, he’ll cheer me on if I want to do it. Because it’s also the right thing to do, and if it costs me the career I’ve worked years to achieve, then I’ll lose my license with a clear conscience.
Mom’s brows shoot up. “Uhm, if you’re serious, I do have one.” But even as she makes the offer, she looks like she’s sorry she did. “Not sure that’s a good idea, though.”
I force a smile to my face to ease her nerves. “Kidding, Mom.” Trying to exude calm, I tell Maria, “We’re fine. Thank you.”