Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Ugh. I must’ve forgotten to lock up after she came in.
That’s my first thought, but because fate hates my guts lately, it’s not just a run-of-the-mill straggler looking for a cake pop after close.
It’s Big Fish, and he looks about as pissed as humanly possible for a man sculpted by the gods.
I thought I’d already seen him hit peak grump-mode when I delivered that batch of cakes to his office, but no.
There’s apparently a higher setting where his ragey blue eyes make it impossible to predict if he’s about to chew me out or throw me against the wall and devour me.
Even better, Nana whirls around at the sound and sees him standing there, casually sucking up oxygen like the intimidating mega-prick he is.
I’ve been ignoring him for days. I’m ready for him to let loose and rip into me, to go off, to throw something.
What I’m not expecting is to see his lips twitch as this human dragon smiles at my grandmother.
Oh, crud.
“Hold up. Are you the famous Jo Winkley? Juniper’s grandmother?” He strides forward, offering her a hand like he’s been waiting half his life. I think I’m traumatized because the room starts spinning. “I’m Dexter Rory. It’s amazing to finally meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard so much—all good things, of course.”
Oh God, oh God, what is he—
“It’s such an honor,” he continues, still with that serpentlike smile on his lips, “to shake the hand of the woman who put the Sugar Bowl on the map. And, dare I say, who brought Juniper tumbling into my life.”
What the actual hell?
My knees give out.
I have to be dreaming.
I lean against the table and pinch myself in the arm. Hard.
Bad move. That doesn’t get me anything except a bruise as this smiling maniac sweet-talks my Nana with a gentle personality he should win an award for faking.
This is bad.
So bad.
Then Nana smiles and breaks into a loud laugh and everything gets worse.
Insanely worse when I recognize that laugh.
I’ve heard it over the years, though it’s not usually aimed at anyone I know. But right now, it’s a death sentence.
It means she flipping likes him.
“Why, thank you. I didn’t know my Junie made time for charming young men,” she says too loudly, glancing back at me with her eyebrows ready to fly off her face. “How come you hide the nice ones, darling?”
“Juniper—Junie—she’s a funny one. I’m afraid you’ll have to decide who’s the bigger workaholic between us,” he says with a low, almost vicious chuckle. I’ve never heard this man laugh. I didn’t think he could. “Still, we’ve been dating for—what, about half a year, Junie? It’s high time to meet the Sugar Bowl original.”
Dating.
I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.
But Gran gasps even louder than me. “Dating! Oh, my. Oh, Junie, you never said—how could you? Leaving your poor grandmother flapping in the wind…”
“Um. Um!” My brain won’t work, much less my tongue.
Even my lungs are fried. I’m about to pass out.
My palms sweat as I grasp at the counter for more support, the only reason I’m not sprawled out on the floor.
This man—this total dickhead-fried turd—is using my own grandmother against me.
I never fathomed he’d go this low.
And I wonder how long it’ll be until someone comments on my face turning a lethal shade of red.
“It’s fine,” Rory says calmly, quickly approaching me.
Holy shit, no, he’s going to hug me, and—
And I don’t know what to do about it.
There’s nothing I can do when I’m having an out-of-body experience.
I just stand there like a scared puppy as he pulls me against him.
Meanwhile, Nana beams over his enormous shoulder like he’s just handed her a seat to my wedding and the whole mess of great grandkids she’s been waiting for since I turned twenty.
All because he can’t just be normal. Oh no.
Dexter Rory just has to be this delicious, smooth-talking, diabolical devil treat that Nana thinks I’ve been hiding from the family.
I hate him.
Like actual hate.
I thought I loathed him before, but this—this is genuine fire-breathing disgust. I just want to rip his cold, dead, still-beating heart from his body and burn it for turning Nana against me.
For making it impossible to erase that hopeful, happy look from her face.
“I can’t believe it, Junie,” Nana trills as soon as Dexter releases me. “And oh, sweetie, you’re redder than a Maine lobster. Is it the humidity? If you need me to look at your A/C this week, I can do that too.”
Gah!
My eyes whip to Lucifer just in time to catch the tiniest smirk. Yeah, he’s not faking that one.
If justified murder was legal in this state, I’d have pushed his face into a fresh batch of dough and smothered him by now.
“I remember those days,” Nana says absently, oblivious to the river of tension flowing between us. She cups her hand against her cheek and I know exactly what she’s going to say.