Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Instead of explaining where Gran was, Rinny glanced over my shoulder and spoke directly to Bear. “For the love of all that’s holy, Ryan, take him upstairs before someone asks him for money again.”
I let out a breath. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“It’s not fine,” she snapped, surprising me. “Gran and I wait for you to have time for a visit, and then what nonsense do you have to put up with? The nonsens-iest. I warned everyone to keep their cool, but did they listen? No. And I can tell you’re doing your best to be polite, just like you’ve always been, but that’s outside of enough. You’re exhausted, Zane Michael, and I declare it’s nap time for silly boys.” She finished with a tease, using a phrase I hadn’t heard in a million years. “Now, git. You can come back down when it’s time for supper.”
She shot a look at Bear again as if he was the decider of all things. Unfortunately, I was too tired to remind anyone that he wasn’t, so I let him press a hand against my lower back and nudge me toward the back stairs. Before we disappeared through the doorway, Uncle Bart came in for another beer. “Oh, hey, I wanted to ask Zee a question about—”
“Nope,” Rinny said. “He has a headache. Save your questions for later. Mark and Coot are coming over for a bonfire and bringing Coot’s mandolin. If they don’t monopolize Zane’s time asking him to play with them, you can ask him your question then.”
I smiled to myself. Rinny and Scooter “Coot” MacNamy had been sweet on each other for about a million years. He was a dedicated long-haul trucker, which was the only reason she’d never agreed to marry him. He was also the best damned mandolin player I’d ever come across in all my years playing with professional musicians. I’d offered him a job playing with me more than once, and he refused every time. “I’m not much of a people person, Zane,” he’d said. “The thought of those crowds makes my stomach feel like it might sneak outta my ass without warning.”
Knowing he was coming over later to play music out by the fire reminded me why I loved being here… and helped me forget about all the other bullshit.
As soon as I entered my old bedroom, I felt my shoulders drop. “You don’t have to stay,” I told Bear, knowing it was pointless to dismiss him.
He shot me a look. I tried not to notice how intense his dark eyes were when they landed on me. “You want me to sit in the hall?”
I groaned. No, I thought, I want you to wrap your arms around me like you did last night and remind me that I’m an actual human being, not a walking ATM and sales tool. Make me feel like me again.
I couldn’t say any of that, obviously. I relied on Bear too much as it was.
“Fine,” I said instead. “You can stay, but I’m actually going to nap, so you’ll be bored to tears.”
“I’m never bored when we’re here. I get to snoop through all your shit while you sleep.” Bear grinned and bounced his eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes and kicked off my shoes before pulling back the faded blue-and-yellow quilt to reveal yellow checkered sheets that were so wash-worn the checkers weren’t even discernible anymore. “There’s hardly much shit to snoop anymore.”
“Pfft. You lived here in high school. I’m still holding out hope I’ll find your porn stash.”
I laughed as I yanked off my hoodie and unbuttoned my jeans. I made sure to set both items carefully on the edge of my bedside table so they wouldn’t wrinkle, and then I slid between the sheets in my boxer briefs. The smell of Gran’s discount laundry detergent was still the same as my head sank into the old pillow. “You’re going to be disappointed when you learn my porn stash consisted of one signed photo of Cristiano Ronaldo without his shirt on, one newspaper clipping of Garrett Latimore making a big save during the Barlo vs Adams-Kearney High game junior year—he was the goalie on our team and gave me a giant woody in the locker room at least weekly during soccer season—and a movie poster of Casino Royale because on it, Daniel Craig’s fingers are…”
I snapped my mouth closed before I actually blurted out all the ways I’d fantasized about James Bond using those fingers on me.
Bear met my eyes, a smirk at the edges of his lips. “Daniel Craig, huh? Seems an odd choice.”
I shrugged. “Pierce Brosnan, Sean Connery, Daniel Craig… any of them could eat crackers in my bed and I wouldn’t kick them out. What about you?”
“What about me?”
I settled down into my bed and closed my eyes. If I could get Ryan to talk to me for a little while with his soothing voice, I’d fall asleep so much faster. “Which Bond girl would you pick? Please say Rosamund Pike. I know she wasn’t technically the Bond girl in Die Another Day, and I’ll be totally happy if you pick Halle Berry, of course, but—”