Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
It was more words than I’d heard him say in an entire day. And I wished I’d had my voice recorder on.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“You want this story? This job?”
I nodded.
“Then you gotta earn every answer.”
I wet my lips and wondered if it was wrong to hope that he wanted me to earn answers with really awesome punk-rock sex.
“H-how?”
“Quid pro quo, sweetheart. You get an answer; I get an answer.”
I accepted the plate Vonn handed me. I was trying to figure out his angle. I was a divorced mother of two adult children. I lived in a small town in Pennsylvania. I didn’t have secrets like a man who had been on a dozen world tours did.
“Do you want some wine?” I offered.
He shook his head. “No thanks.”
I remembered then that he didn’t drink. An interesting quirk in his line of work.
“We got a deal?” Vonn asked, strolling into the living room.
Betty barked, and I looked down to see her sitting in front of me, tail swishing across the kitchen floor.
“Dinner. Right,” I said. I put her kibble dinner in the bowl before following Vonn.
He was sprawled on the couch. Feet propped up on the coffee table.
Gray sweatpants had been invented for Vonn Barlowe.
Not only did they put the perfect globes of his butt on display, they also paid quite the flattering homage to his crotchal region.
I snapped out of it and took the opposite end of the couch, pulling my feet up and resting my plate on a throw pillow. It was roasted chicken legs with sprigs of rosemary, fat wedges of red onion, and… “Are these grapes?” I asked, poking one of the purple globes. It smelled divine.
“They are.”
I took a bite of grape and onion and chicken. My eyes rolled back in my head. “Yum. This is really, really good.”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
It was safer not to respond to that.
My phone rang on the coffee table, and I realized he’d brought it into the living room for me.
Addison.
“It’s my daughter,” I said, putting my plate down and swiping to accept the call.
Shane and Addy’s faces popped up on my screen. “Merry Christmas Eve, Mom,” they sang.
I grinned. Once again surprised and delighted by the combination of traits both kids got from me and their dad. Hair. Eyes. Jaw. Nose. Yet all four of us were completely different people. Addy was a bubbly perfectionist hell-bent on growing up as fast as possible. Shane was a laid-back athlete who didn’t waste time on things like planning for the future.
“Merry Christmas Eve, guys. How about this snow?”
“I know, right?” The camera shifted as Addy panned through the large wall of windows in her dad’s living room. Beyond the tornado of baby toys and piles of wrapped presents, the snow fell.
“Beautiful,” I said. Betty nosed her way into the frame, always happy to hear the kids’ voices.
“How was the concert? Did you feed Whinnie?”
“The concert was great. Whinnie is fine. She had her supper and she’s bedded down for the night,” I assured her.
“What are you having for dinner?” Shane asked.
“Chicken,” I said, holding up my plate so they could see.
“Is Mark there?” Addy asked. I wasn’t imagining the tone. Both kids had met Mark once or twice. Neither of them liked him.
Vonn snickered, and I shot him a disapproving look.
“No. Mark’s not here,” I hedged. “Something came up.”
“Told you she’d end up alone on Christmas Eve,” Shane said, shoving his sister.
“Oh my God, Mom!” Addy screeched. “What happened to your head?” Somewhere in the background, their half sister added her voice to my daughter’s distress.
I winced. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“You have a head injury and you’re alone on Christmas Eve,” Addy said in a half shout.
“This blows,” Shane said.
“I’m fine. Betty and I are relaxing. It was just a minor bump on the head at the concert. I didn’t even need stitches.”
Vonn rolled his eyes at my little white lie.
“I’m coming to get you. You shouldn’t be alone,” my son said firmly.
The last thing I needed was to be treated like an invalid old lady at my ex-husband’s house on Christmas.
“You’re not going out on these roads. It’s not supposed to stop snowing until morning. Stay at your dad’s, and I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.”
My kids gave each other a look. “Fine. But text us when you go to bed and then call as soon as you wake up,” Addy said. Shane nodded.
“Fine, weirdos. Now go play with your sister before she eats her way through that gift box.”
“Bye, Mom! We love you!”
“Bye, guys. Love you too.” I blew them a kiss and ended the call.
I tossed the phone onto the cushion and went back to my plate. I could feel Vonn’s attention on me.
“How bad of a guy am I when it’s better to let your kids think you’re spending Christmas Eve alone instead of with me?” he wondered.