Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
I was eighteen, so I got to choose my summer job for the first time.
“It’s nothing personal,” Matt said politely. “But Sarah doesn’t want to work on the ranch.” He smiled at me as if he’d just done me a huge favor.
“We’re trying to talk her into a mission trip,” Dad said, giving me a nod of encouragement.
I felt like my eyes were bouncing around in my head, unable to concentrate on anyone or anything for more than a few seconds. A tiny voice told my eyes and brain to get it together and focus, but the buzz demanded all my attention—that and the memory of Isaac squeezing my leg.
“Sarah, are you feeling okay?” Mom asked in a concerned tone.
I choked on another giggle and shook my head. “I, uh, need to use the restroom. I just feel a little off.” I scooted back in my chair and stood. The room spun.
“Is it a headache?” Mom questioned.
“It,” I returned a jerky nod like my head was on a spring, “could be the start of one.”
All I had to do was make it a few feet to turn the corner into the kitchen. A few normal steps. But it was so hard.
“Sarah?” Violet called my name.
I cringed. Had she noticed my inability to walk a straight line? Everything was ready to unravel. I knew I’d have to rat out Isaac because there was no way anyone would’ve believed I had a flask with alcohol stashed in my purse.
“Hmm?” I stopped, pressing my hand to the wall while praying for a new excuse. Did I think God would answer my prayers with a well-thought-out lie for me to use?
With that amount of hard liquor in my blood, anything felt possible.
“The toilet off the kitchen hasn’t been flushing right. Use the one upstairs,” she said.
Upstairs?
Fun fact: I had never been upstairs. Preacher’s daughters weren’t allowed anywhere near the bedrooms of nonfamily members. I felt like I was being rewarded for my bad behavior.
Was that possible?
At the top of the creaky stairs covered in a faded blue carpet runner, there was a bedroom to the right. It had an unmade single bed in the corner and shelves with baseball trophies and ribbons—Matt’s room. On the opposite side, there was another room with a bed made so neatly that you could bounce a quarter off the top. Rock band posters, everything from Tom Petty to Aerosmith and ZZ Top, covered the walls. An electric guitar sat on a stand beside the window overlooking the garage.
The buzz led me into Isaac’s room, where I sat on the edge of his bed and flopped backward, making everything spin even more. That made me giggle, so I snatched his pillow and covered my face to muffle my laughter.
It smelled like Drakkar Noir with hints of rosemary, cardamom, and cedar. When it registered that I was sniffing my boyfriend’s brother’s pillow, I tossed it aside and stood, wobbling a bit before tiptoeing to the guitar. Since it wasn't plugged in, I plucked a few strings. I’d dreamed of playing the guitar, but my parents insisted I stick to the piano. It was kinder to my delicate fingers.
“If you touch something of mine, I get to touch something of yours, but I guess you tried to get me to feel you up during prayer, so that counts.”
I jumped out of my skin, slapping a hand over my mouth while staring at Isaac through wide, unblinking eyes. “What are you doing in here?” I mumbled, then giggled behind my hand.
“It’s my room. The question is, what are you doing here?” Isaac was pure sin; everything my dad had warned me about all wrapped up into one hot man with a cherry on top.
“I think you got me drunk.” I nibbled on my thumbnail, failing to suppress another snort.
He smirked. “I never would have guessed.” His gaze averted to my side. “What were you doing on my bed?”
“Huh?” I followed his gaze. “Nothing. I wasn’t.”
“My blanket is wrinkled, and my pillow is ruffled.” He took pleasure in calling me out like Goldilocks.
I sighed. “Why does your pillow smell so good? You smoke,” I slurred the word with an extra long O. “Smokers are stinky. I’m tipsy.” My eyes rolled with a heavy blink. “I’ve never been tipsy. I like it. And I re-e-ealy like how your pillow smells.”
He held a finger to his lips, shooshing me while glancing over his shoulder.
I cupped my hands around my mouth. “I can’t believe they let you up here with me,” I whispered. Well, it was a partial whisper. “I’m not allowed to be in boys’ bedrooms. I could accidentally have sex.”
Isaac rolled his lips between his teeth, but it did little to hide his amusement. “I have Tylenol.” He grabbed the white bottle from his nightstand. “My mom wanted Matt to get it for you, but I told her it was probably in my room. Do you need a Tylenol for your headache?” He held the bottle in my face between his thumb and his forefinger. Isaac had enormous hands, even larger than Matt’s.