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)
“It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice brittle. He frowns at me, but I force a smile and lean back into the plush seat. “You know, when we get there, you should start calling me Junie. It’s the name everyone else uses and it’d be weird if you don’t.”
“Sure thing. Junie.”
My nickname sounds strange when he says it. But it’s a good weird, and it reaches down inside me and strokes me like a kitten.
There’s a madness in the air tonight, this heat flowing down my neck and over my skin. I’m going to blame the luxury seats and freakishly good climate control in this vehicle.
“Do you have a nickname? Dex, maybe?”
“Dex works,” he bites off.
I rub the tip of my nose awkwardly. “And, um, we should probably hold hands.”
“Junie, relax. We’ll give granny the greatest show on earth. Leave it to me,” he says with a confidence I wish I had, taking a hand off the steering wheel to lay it on my arm. “We managed junior prom just fine. This weekend, we’ll behave like grown-ups.”
I take a deep, shaky breath.
I’m totally shaking, especially when my mind goes to dirty places he can’t possibly mean, and his reassurances aren’t doing anything to help.
Honestly, he has no idea what Nana’s like. No matter how confident he might be, I’m petrified we’re going to blow it.
But there isn’t much time to worry with light traffic and a set of wheels that just sails through the rain.
Soon, we pull up outside Nana’s house. The rain is helping her flowers, and her front yard is a riot of vibrant color.
“Nice place,” he says before shutting the car off and grabbing an umbrella from the back. “Wait there and I’ll come and get you.”
So much for thinking I wouldn’t be red-faced all night. With this gentleman act, my cheeks may never return to a normal color.
Before I can try to stop freaking out, Nana opens the door and waves as Dexter walks around to my side as promised, umbrella perched over his head. He opens my door like a Mr. Darcy who cusses up a blue streak.
I take his hand and he squeezes, his thumb brushing roughly over my knuckles.
“Trust me, Junie. We’ll have her wanting to beat down your door to help with wedding invitations.”
…does he hear himself?
That’s a massive problem.
Whether we win, lose, or draw tonight, we’re potentially stuck with letting Nana down easy when all this is over.
I swallow the lump building in my throat.
“Let’s just get this over with.” I slide out quickly, letting him twine his fingers with mine. The walk to Nana’s front door seems to last forever, but eventually we reach the threshold and she gives me her usual sweeping hello hug.
“I thought you’d never make it in this mess!” she says warmly. “This city can’t decide if it wants a monsoon or to scorch us bone-white some days.”
“That’s a Missouri summer, all right. We wouldn’t dream of canceling,” Dexter says smoothly, every inch the charming businessman. “It’s lovely to see you again, Mrs. Winkley.”
“Oh, hush. I told you to call me Jo. Now let’s get you out of the rain.” She leads us into her kitchen, where she’s already set the table.
A plate of ribs sits in the center on a warming pan with a pot of creamed corn and sautéed mushrooms by their side, plus her famous rosemary crispy potatoes in a large glazed bowl.
My stomach growls with guilt.
She really went all out for this.
For us.
For a big fat dumb lie I’m pulling over on her.
I wonder if hell is less humid than the summer we’ve been having.
Dexter whistles loudly and rubs his eyes. It sounds so genuine I glance up at him, startled.
“Damn. This is incredible.”
Nana’s smile might break her face. “I like a man who shows up with an appetite. And it’s not often you get to meet the man who’s stolen your favorite granddaughter’s heart.”
“Nana…” I squirm as she directs me to a seat. “I’m your only granddaughter.”
It’s true. My cousins are boys, even if their wives gossip like they’ve always been Winkleys.
“Does that mean I love you any less?” Nana looks so threatening, brandishing a serving spoon like a weapon, I’m forced to laugh and shake my head as she turns her attention back to the potatoes. “I thought not.”
Dexter takes his place beside me and slips his hand into mine again. I don’t know when I pulled away.
My palm feels so sweaty it’s indecent.
Oh God.
“Would you like a drink?” Nana asks Dexter, already pouring me a tall glass of wine. It’s a struggle not to glug down the whole thing to medicate my nerves.
“Just the wine,” Dexter says. “I’m driving tonight.”
She pours him a glass and passes it over before turning her attention to serving dinner. I think she’ll be doing this until the day she dies, ever the attentive host, totally focused on her dinner parties and dishing up food that’s so divine it leaves everyone craving more.