Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Daddy,” a little girl’s squeaky voice called. “Daddy, where are you?”
Casten froze and groaned into the woman’s neck.
“Shit,” he growled.
With one last longing push of his hips, he pulled himself free of the woman that was seated on the counter, tucked himself back into his pants and helped her down off the counter.
He smoothed his hands down her hips, situating the dress back in all the right places, and grabbed her hand before he exited the door to the bathroom like he’d never been there in the first place.
My heart was dying.
Literally, it was shriveled in my chest.
I came out of the bathroom and washed my hands at the sink furthest away from where the incident had just taken place.
Then I dried my hands on the fancy towel hanging from a fancy towel holder and walked out of the bathroom.
I probably would’ve done well, too, had I not run straight into Casten and the woman at the mouth of the hallway that led to the bathrooms.
He was smiling, pulling her into his chest as he spoke into her ear.
I saw red.
The next thing I knew, I was in Casten’s face, and my hand was swinging.
It exploded in pain, and Casten’s head whipped to the side with the force I’d put into the punch.
Casten brought his hand up to his jaw before moving it side to side.
His tongue darted out to lick a stray drop of blood that welled from where his tooth had caught his lip, and he narrowed his eyes.
“I’d like you to meet my brother, Corbyn.” Casten said with a glare.
I whirled around, ready to shout at him and everyone else, but stilled, stunned.
The woman I’d seen in the bathroom with ‘Casten’ was actually with an entirely different man.
One who looked identical to Casten.
He had the same dark brown hair in the typical cop haircut, shaved at the sides and longer on the top.
Gun metal gray eyes that looked through your soul.
Strong jaw, straight nose, beautiful lips.
His chest was wide, and he was what I would describe as brawny.
He was Casten, and Casten was him.
“Shiiiit,” I groaned. “Shit. Piss. Fuck. Shit.”
I turned on my heel and walked away, my face flaming that I’d caused a scene at somebody’s wedding that I should’ve been trying to impress.
“Shit,” I gasped.
Tears were threatening now, and I didn’t know what the hell to do anymore.
I should call a cab.
I should ask someone in the parking lot to give me a ride to the nearest gas station.
Determined now, I walked out of the vineyard to the parking lot, hoping that Casten wasn’t following me.
Or maybe it was Corbyn.
I didn’t know.
They looked nearly identical.
Motherfucker!
Isn’t that information that someone tells the person that they’re going on a date with?
I mean, the man had told me about having two sisters. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned a twin brother?
An identical twin brother.
I made it to the parking lot and looked left and right.
Surely a vineyard would have a taxi here due to the intoxicated wine connoisseurs, right?
“Damn, damn, dammit, damn, damn,” I uttered as I marched around the parking lot.
Shit!
With no other recourse, I started to walk.
Straight the fuck down the main road, past every single person that had just seen me slap the son of the bride.
“I’m a fuckin’ loser,” I muttered darkly.
I’d made it nearly all the way down the road when my side started to hurt, reminding me that I’d had surgery recently and maybe the doctors were right when they said there was a recovery period.
Maybe walking wasn’t such a good idea.
I narrowed my eyes at the country road that stretched out a gazillion miles in front of me, and sighed, veering off course and through the trees that made up the vineyard.
My eyes lit on a white gazebo past the long rows of grape trees, and I headed for it like it was my shelter in the wake of a storm.
I cursed myself once again for letting Casten stow my purse in his saddle bags, wishing I had my phone.
My sister would be able to help me through this.
What was the etiquette when it came to slapping a man you thought was fucking someone else but really wasn’t?
I sank down onto the lone bench swing and practically folded into it like a wilting violet.
“Piss,” I breathed out harshly. “I’m so stupid.”
***
An hour, I assumed, later, since I had no way to tell time, I heard a branch snap.
I turned my eyes sideways to see who I thought was Casten barreling down on me.
“Are you done pouting?” he called.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Which one are you?” I accused.
He grinned, and my heart started to pound.
It was Casten.
I’d know that smile anywhere.
“You know who I am, you little shit. And if you’d given me five seconds to explain, you would’ve been introduced to my brother,” he countered, stopping at the end of the stairs to look at me with barely concealed annoyance.