Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“How hungry are you?” I asked once I was inside.
“Um, not terribly. I mean, I could eat now if that’s your plan, but if not, I can wait.”
I chuckled. “Let me try again. When was the last time you ate?”
The corner of her lips curled up. “I had some pie an hour ago.”
Perfect.
“All right then. Eat later.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
I backed out of her driveway. “Best I show you.”
“Why? Is explaining it difficult?” The hesitant sound of her voice was amusing.
I cut my eyes at her. “I thought we covered the you can trust me thing.”
She lifted a bare shoulder. “It’s a work in progress.”
Not what I’d wanted to hear. “Seriously? After yesterday, you are still unsure about me?”
She leaned back on the seat, relaxing, and I knew I’d see her bare thighs if I just looked down at her lap, but I refused to do it.
“You were quite the white night,” she replied. “Almost too good to be true. So, you see why I’m not ready to toss all my good sense into the Amory Blaine pot.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She was funny. She was sexy, smart, challenging, interesting, and not to be trusted. I’d experienced some unfair shit in life, but this might take the cake. Even when I’d been in love with Oakley and she’d loved Wilder. This beat that. First, I had been young, and looking back, I didn’t think that had been love. It was lust, respect, and I’d taken her virginity, so I’d felt somewhat possessive over that. But marriage would have been a mistake.
This girl was all the things Oakley had been and more. She was savvy, not in love with another man, and a complete smart-ass.
“Did Grams like the apple pie?” I asked, changing the subject.
She nodded. “Oh, yes. She was bragging to your Maeme about how good it turned out.”
She thought that Maeme was the name we called her because she was a grandmother. Most people did. But her name was actually Maeme, and she was not my grandmother. She was King’s. But she was the oldest in the family, and no one stood against her. Not even my dad.
I didn’t correct her.
“Good,” I replied.
“We are leaving town?” she asked me when she saw me turn north.
“Not far,” I assured her.
“This is a test of trust, isn’t it? You’re gonna take me out into the woods and see if I freak out.”
I grinned. “No, but that does sound entertaining.”
She rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat. My eyes dropped to her lap of their own will, and I bit the inside of my cheek again, tearing my gaze off those fucking pretty thighs.
“When’s your birthday?” I blurted out. “You said you were turning twenty-one soon.” I knew this answer, but I needed to be distracted.
“October 28. Why? You’re not gonna have a cake delivered to my house or anything, are you?”
I shook my head. “No. That would be lame. I was gonna get you a car. Preferences?”
“That had better be a joke,” she warned, sounding truly pissed.
I glanced at her. “Why? What would you do? Run me over with it?”
“Maybe! Don’t tempt me.”
“Easy, Ace. I’m not buying you a car. But if you want a cake, I can make a call.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “I just don’t know what to believe with you after yesterday.”
Yeah, well, unless my father decided I needed to buy her a car, I wouldn’t be doing that. Actually, he’d be the one doing it if that happened.
Her phone dinged, and she snatched it out of her purse quickly. I tried not to watch her, and I knew I’d see what the text said soon enough. All texts and calls she received were now sent to my phone. Wilder had sent me the info on how to program the spy software into her phone, and I’d done it yesterday when she was dealing with her Grams in the bathroom.
A frown drew her brows together.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
She nodded but quickly turned the screen off and stuck the phone back in her purse. All right, that was odd and possibly a lead. It was definitely a reminder that she wasn’t a real date and this night wasn’t real romance.
The apple orchard was up ahead, and I could check my phone once we got there. See if it was anything I needed to forward to my father. I realized I was gripping the wheel too tightly and made myself relax.
“Are we”—her eyes stared out the window as I slowed the car to turn into the deserted parking lot—“going to an apple orchard?”
“Yep. Nighttime picking. They are closed on weekdays, but they made an exception for us,” I explained.
“You can pick apples at night?” she asked. Her smile made her eyes twinkle in the moonlight.