Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“You know that didn’t make me your girlfriend. Right?”
He presses his fist to his mouth and clears his throat. “Girlfriend? I’m flattered that you think I’m that young.”
“Age doesn’t have anything to do with having a girlfriend. After my grandma died, my grandpa met a woman who was ten years younger than him.” I laugh, shaking my head. “He was so proud of her. You’d have thought he won the lottery. He told everyone she was his girlfriend. Neighbors. Servers. Cashiers at the grocery store. And she embraced the label as a term of endearment. Whenever he’d say it, she’d pinch his cheek and kiss his lips.”
Jack grins. “That’s a great story.”
I nod slowly, feeling the reality of time settle around my heart like a coat that no longer fits. “My brother was named after Grandpa John. He looked up to him like an idol. Grandpa John served in World War II as a pilot. He had a single-engine Cessna. And he’d take John and me up with him all the time. We’d fight over who got to be the copilot.”
Jack sits back in his chair, resting his hands on the arms, giving me a soft smile and full attention.
“Of course, I rarely got to be the copilot because Grandpa was old-fashioned, and he thought a girl’s place was at home, raising a family. He’s one of the reasons I got my Ph.D. and never married. I wanted him to see a successful woman who didn’t bake cookies and pop out babies.” I frown. “But he died before I got my first job at a university.”
“I’m sorry.”
My gaze flits to Jack’s. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“I can’t get over kids these days.” Eloise rolls her eyes, easing into her chair. “I’m eighty-one. No twenty-something will tell me anything about Jesus Christ that I don’t already know.”
We laugh.
We converse.
We eat good food.
For the most perfect hour, I don’t think of my brother, Lynn, and Steven. I don’t think of the Sanfords or the dean’s husband. For an hour, I exist only in this moment with these two beautiful humans.
“Thank you, once again, for a nice evening,” Jack says to Eloise.
“You did the hard part. Thanks for manning the grill.”
I hang back a few feet as they say their goodbyes on the front porch.
“Well,” Eloise turns toward me, “I’ll let you two kiss good night without me getting in your way.”
I bite back my grin and give her a tiny nod.
Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s my cue to leave.”
Eloise returns to the house while Jack treks toward the garage.
I glance over my shoulder to see if she’s left us alone, and she has. But there is no “us.” Jack’s halfway to the garage, and I’m standing atop the porch stairs.
“Hey. That’s all I get?” I holler at him.
Jack turns, giving me a head-to-toe assessment before the hint of a grin steals his lips. “You’re not my girlfriend.”
I lift my skirt and skip down the stairs in my bare feet, tiptoeing over the uneven bricks to the warm grass and eventually to him. “You’re right. I’m not your girlfriend.” I curl my fingers into his shirt and lift onto my toes. “But I’m the girl you kiss good night.”
The pad of his middle finger presses to my forehead, and he uses it to trace a line down my nose. My eyes close. His finger skims my lips before his knuckles brush my cheek.
I lean into his touch.
His thumb hooks my bottom lip.
Just as I open my eyes, his mouth replaces his thumb.
Jack’s touch is patient. Too patient.
And seductive. So seductive.
It takes a few seconds to realize he’s peeling open my fingers. I grin, uncurling them and holding my hands up. “Sorry. I lost my balance.”
Jack hums, giving me a shit-eating grin. “Be good.” He turns and opens the garage door.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
Click.
The door closes.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FRANCESCA
It’s hard to separate teenagers from their phones. It might be easier to sever a leg from their body with dental floss. But I think I’ve got this. Brock, my new BFF and waiter, has agreed to get Molly Sanford’s phone for me for a thousand dollars. I asked Archer for the money to see if I could manipulate him. I wasn’t sure what I’d do with the money.
Until today.
“What’s she drinking?” I ask from my booth on the opposite side of the restaurant during the lunch rush.
“Diet Coke.” He plucks the wad of cash from my hand and pockets it. I think he knows her, but I don’t think he’s a fan.
“Get her a refill, spill it on her lap, then go to town cleaning up the mess, making sure to get her phone when no one’s looking. But you have to do this when she’s on her phone, so it’s not locked when you take it. Got it? And don’t let the screen lock before you get it to me.”