Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Serves you right for being so cocky, I tell myself angrily.
“Sorry to interrupt y’all’s lovely game,” a voice says from behind me, and I turn to see my best friend’s fiancé, Winston, walking up to clamp a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder, “but I have to steal my big brother away, I’m afraid.”
“Give us a few, we’re in a match,” Wyatt growls. “And it was just starting to get good.”
Brother? It hits me like a ton of bricks.
Wyatt. Ford. As in, of the Ford family. Jed and Bill Ford.
That’s why he looks vaguely familiar. I can see the similarities between them now.
“Winston, did you say this guy is your brother?” I want to be sure before I go off half-cocked again. I like Winston . . . now. At first, when Avery came back from school, talking my head off about this guy she was dating, I was happy for her. Then she told me his name, and my happiness for my friend evaporated into thin air. In fact, it led to the biggest fight we’ve ever had. But Winston has proven himself to be completely different from his uncle. He loves Avery and is totally gone for her—hook, line, and sinker. And if he loves her that much, then I’ll give him a pass on his shitty family. He didn’t choose them, after all.
But Wyatt?
I feel duped for some reason. It’s not like we exchanged last names, phone numbers, preferred positions, and post-fuck snack recipes, but c’mon, he knows the weight his name carries around here. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t lead with that since those four little letters are probably enough to get him a legs-open invitation from some women.
“Guilty as charged. He’s home for the wedding,” Winston tells me. To Wyatt, he says, “As I was trying to tell you before you charged off, Hazel is Avery’s best friend and she’s in the wedding, so you’ll see her there.”
“You’re in the wedding?” Wyatt repeats, sounding just as surprised as I feel.
“Yeah,” I drawl out, not liking his tone. “Don’t worry, I clean up real purdy and won’t embarrass your kinfolk by leaving my POS car on the front lawn or picking my teeth with a shrimp fork.” I have no idea if a shrimp fork is even small enough to get between my teeth, but the point stands. I’m not in the same class as these two. Not in the same world.
And if there was ever a man for me, his last name would not be Ford, because he would not be related to the man who is turning my hometown into a battleground and who broke my Aunt Etta’s heart.
“The little plastic swords from the appetizers are better toothpick substitutes,” Wyatt suggests casually, almost sounding . . . amused?
I scowl, not liking this back-and-forth. Why can’t he just take the burn and slink away like most guys do? Is that so damn hard?
Winston looks from Wyatt to me. “Uh, okay . . . so there’s that. But we do need to leave, Wyatt. Avery wants me to bring her dinner.”
That’s enough to stop the mental formulation of my next attack plan. “Is she okay? Why hasn’t she already had dinner? It’s late.”
Avery is a giver through and through, and if she’s asking for dinner, it means she’s at the end of her rope.
“She’s fine. Grandpa just wanted Tayvious’s chili, so I offered to take him a bowl. And I can’t very well take him dinner without taking Avery some, right? So I got her a big burger. I’m gonna have Wyatt drop me off, and I’ll stay over to make sure she eats.” He pauses, then corrects himself: “Make sure they both eat.”
Avery’s grandpa is still a lively, slick one. His mind’s sharp as Tay Tay’s favorite knife, but without the nastiness a lot of old folks get when their bodies start to betray them. But he needs a lot of care, enough that Avery spends the majority of her time supervising him. It sounds like she’s got Winston to help with that now too.
“Yeah, of course. Tell her to call me if she needs anything.” It’s a safer conversation than the one Wyatt’s eyes are trying to have with me—one filled with confusion at my whiplash cold shoulder. “Bye!”
I try to make it sound breezy and casual, but I’m pretty sure I fail.
The brothers turn and make their way out. And though I try to fight it, I can’t help but watch Wyatt as he walks away, his stride strong and powerful, his well-defined ass looking magnificent in those jeans of his.
More than one woman in the room has her eye on him, too, some of them literally looking like they’re in heat with their tongues hanging out. Charlene herself looks like she’s about to pull the seltzer hose from underneath the bar and start hosing people down, starting with herself.