Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“You've been living in Dallas too long,” Tucker says, shaking his head. “But if she needs company, I can walk her.”
Tillie laughs as my brother sends her a wink, patting his shoulder. “There's no need. I'm fine.”
“I’ll do it anyway. I’m heading that way,” I invent. “I shouldn't have had that second beer.”
“Can't hold your liquor since you became a city boy, huh?" Dakota mocks.
I flip him off.
“Ryder, behave,” she admonishes.
Dad glares at me, letting out a breath that is filled with his disapproval. Dakota covers his laugh, pretending to cough as I approach Tillie to pull out her chair.
"This is silly. I really can walk myself," she hisses.
"You'll be walking,” I assure her. “Well, unless you want me to carry you. I will totally do that.”
“That is not happening,” she snaps.
“Then, you walk, and I’ll just be here beside you.”
She rolls her eyes. "I don't remember you being so weird in school," Tillie mutters.
“That's what happens when you move to the city to be a big baseball star,” Jase laughs.
“Give it a rest,” I tell them over my shoulder as I guide Tillie through the tables.
“You know they're just joking with you. You don't need to get so defensive.”
Something about her talking to me catches me off guard, and I can’t even think of a quick reply. So, I just gave her the truth. “I'm sick of the way they look down on me because I don't want to work on the ranch—or join the rodeo circuit to promote it. It's not me. It has never been what I wanted. They know that, yet they still try to make me feel guilty because I'm not doing it.”
“Hm,” she hums, mostly to herself.
“What?” I ask, putting my hand on her back as I lead her through the tables. She jumps slightly at my touch, and it makes me smile.
“Nothing, I'm just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Nothing. It's not really my business,” she says, shaking her head.
“Well, you seem to know my family better than me,” I point out, trying to ignore the tinge of jealousy that bleeds through in my words. I hope she doesn’t hear it.
“I spend more time with them. You rarely come home,” Tillie explains, shrugging.
“Why is it that when I do come to visit, I never see you? It’s clear you are around them often, by the way everyone here seems to know and like you.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth. Her gaze darts over my face before she speaks. “I wouldn't call it often, but I do visit. Your mother has been very sweet to me, and your father and Tucker always come in the store to buy the desserts I bake to sell there. I started to feel guilty because Tucker was spending so much money, so I brought some over one day as a gift. Your mom convinced me to stay,” she explains. I had no idea. I don't know if that bothers me because they made friends with her first or because I see more and more that I don't know much about my family's day-to-day life. “I think your brothers have adopted me as their honorary little sister.”
“Jase, Dakota, and Cane might've, but Tucker isn't looking at you like you're his little sister,” I mumble as we near the restrooms. “He’s checked out your ass too many times for that.”
“What?” she gasps, her eyes going round in shock.
“You heard me.” I stare down at her, willing her to deny it. “My brother is currently packing a boner from looking at your ass all night. There's no freaking way he thinks of you as a sister.”
I turn my body, maneuvering us so her back is against the wall.
She opens her mouth as she stares at me before snapping it shut. She does it again, opening and closing, shaking her head—at a complete loss for words.
I laugh. “If you get any redder in the face, Buttons, you'll spontaneously combust.”
She huffs out a breath. “Stop calling me that. You know I hate it. You're only doing it to embarrass me.”
“I love calling you that. You won't believe me, but it's one of my favorite memories from high school.”
“Yeah, right. Stop lying, Ryder. I’m not stupid," she says, glaring up at me. The fire in her brown eyes is mouthwatering.
I cage her in, putting my hands on either side of her as I lean in. “I'm not lying.”
She puts a hand on my chest, pressing as if to push me away. I’m not going anywhere. “You barely knew I was alive.”
“There's a huge-ass difference between not making a move on a woman because you're in a relationship and knowing they're alive, Tillie.”
“Tell me another one,” she huffs. I struggle to read the emotions on her face. The one thing I’m picking up on the most is that she doesn’t believe me—at all.