Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
If that doesn’t call for a divorce, I’m not sure what does. It would have been much better if he tore his shirt off and stayed, and I use the word better loosely because drunk me liked the sight of that muscled chest way too much.
“Hey!” The guy and the woman sitting side by side on one of the couches share a look with each other. I have zero doubt they’re together because that look says they know everything about each other, and they’re perfectly fine with knowing the gross and ugly bits too. They’re literally so in love that it sends zappy energy sizzling across the room. “Our marriage is totally legit,” he informs Orion. “Even if it happened in Vegas.”
That’s right, Boulder Biscuits.
“Oh, it’s definitely legit,” I snap, running out of patience as I grab the divorce papers back. It’s been a long day. No, it’s been a long year. I’ve exhausted myself trying to track down this man so I can free myself from him. “I don’t think I’d like to attend any weddings, but thank you all the same. I’m sure it’s going to be great.” I glance around the room. “If it’s for one of you or two of you, I guess, then congrats. Really. I’m happy for you.” My gaze lands squarely back on the granny. She’s obviously the one in charge. Everyone in the room is more than deferential to her, but it’s more than that. There’s an undercurrent of badass boss granny babe radiating from her that’s impossible not to take note of. “I would really just like to have the papers signed and have my freedom back.”
The granny shakes her head. Yup, I knew she was going to be difficult. “If you found us, that’s quite a rare feat. You have no idea the skill level that took. The amount of work—”
“Oh, seriously, I do. I really, really do.”
“It’s something no one else has done before. I have to offer my congratulations to you.”
“Umm, thanks. I guess,” I say, even though I don’t actually mean thanks. What I really mean is I need my legal husband, who is a complete and total stranger, to sign the papers so I can get on with my life, and I don’t need trouble or attitude because I’m nearing the point where I’d like to cram them down his throat more than I’d like to play nice.
I think she gets that because her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her smile intensifies. “Do you have family, dear?”
I shouldn’t answer that, but I have a feeling this lady knows her stuff, or she knows people who know people who know people who know their shit, and she’ll probably find out anyway. Maybe if I’m nice and cooperative for a few more minutes, I’ll get what I want, and I can get the heck out of here.
So, instead of being a stubborn party pooper pants, I clasp the papers a little tighter, hold onto the last shred of hope and sanity I have left, and shake my head. “Not exactly. Not close family. Not the kind who would bother to claim a person as their own anyway.” Ouch, it hurts to admit that. Even though it’s actually more complicated, the pain still goes zinging straight to my heart.
“Ahhh. And what do you do for a living?”
Again, people who know people who know people. Please let this be one step closer to undoing a massive Vegas mistake. “I think it’s obvious,” I mumble.
The granny’s eyes dance. “Right. You work in IT or a related field,” she states before she purses her lips and delivers the next gobsmacking line out of nowhere. “I think you’d make an excellent addition to our family. If you don’t want to be married to my grandson, that’s understandable. You could just join as an honorary member. We could always use someone with your unique skillset.”
“W—what skillset would that be?” Shit. It’s not like I want to stand here and admit to nefarious, not-so-legal activity.
What if this granny is an undercover cop? What if they mic up senior citizens to trick people into admitting they’ve committed offenses? What if, while I was searching for Orion all this time, he was waiting for me to find him and dropping clues to trap me? What if that night in Vegas wasn’t so random? What if he was trying to trap me then? So what if I was the one who approached him? He was hacking and making it so I could see it because he knew I’d be into it…
I back up hard and fast, but all I get is the wall. I mistimed that terribly. I should have shuffled two steps to the right and then backpedaled. As the granny closes in, I wave the divorce papers in front of me like a weapon. To be fair, papercuts hurt like a bitch.