Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Peter Whitcomb.” He stuck his hand out in a rush. “You’re not who I think you are…are you?”
“Peter.” Nixon shifted his cup and shook Peter’s hand before reclaiming my waist. “Depends on who you think I am.”
Peter’s gaze shifted between Nixon and me a few times, his eyes narrowing. “You’re Nixon Winters.”
“Yes.” Nixon offered him the media smile and tugged me closer to his side.
“And you’re with…” Peter looked outright befuddled as he stared at me.
My spine stiffened. Oh, fuck it.
I settled against Nixon, sliding my hand under his jacket and up his back as I sipped my cider, letting Peter draw his own conclusion.
“Well…yeah.” Nixon raised his eyebrows. “Why else would I be here?”
Peter’s eyes widened to nearly impossible proportions.
“There you are!” Laura appeared from the crowd, grabbing Peter’s arm and hugging it. “You sounded great, sweetie.” She flashed a fake smile at me and tilted her head. “Hey, Zoe…nice to see you.”
“Laura.” It was most definitely not nice to see her, but it was a far cry from the agony I’d felt when I’d bumped into her during a visit my freshman year. Sometimes small towns were just too small. “How’s the family?”
Nixon’s gaze darted to mine, darkening with question as he squeezed my waist once.
I nodded slightly, lifting my cup.
“We have two kids now. Girls. You know, married life.” She shrugged and sang it in that completely passive aggressive tone she’d apparently kept since high school.
“She would if she’d ever agree to marry me,” Nixon said with a sigh. “I swear I ask her at least once a week, but she keeps holding out.”
I nearly spit out my cider.
Nixon patted my back. “You okay, baby?”
I nodded, barely managing to swallow.
“Sweetie, Nixon here is the lead guitarist for Hush Note,” Peter told his wife.
She looked Nixon up and down like he wasn’t wearing any clothes, and my blood pressure spiked. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. It’s harder with that hat on.”
“Did you hear me play?” Peter blurted, his eyes lighting up.
“I did.” Nixon nodded slowly, then finished off his cider.
“And?” Peter prodded.
My hand tensed on Nixon’s back, and my stomach dropped. He’d never been known for candy-coating his opinion on anything, especially music.
“And…it was…something,” he offered. “Babe, why don’t we go—”
“You two are impossible to find,” Jeremiah announced as he came up on my left. “Which is ironic since you’d think Nixon would stand out like a sore thumb.” He glanced between the four of us but didn’t say a word about the way Nixon and I stood wrapped around each other. Instead, he leveled a flat stare on Peter.
If this had been a board game, we would have reached a whole other level of awkward.
“Hey, Laura.” A brunette I had a vague memory of waved from about ten feet away. “We need you up front to do the donations update.”
“Of course.” She gave us all a beaming smile, ending with Nixon. “Gotta run.”
She hurried off, leaving me standing with someone I loved, someone I used to love, and someone who was pretending to love me.
“This is why I don’t go to reunions,” I whispered at Nixon in a hiss.
“Imagine how much fun I would be at your reunion,” he whispered back, adding a wink.
“Right, so if you ever need a backup guitarist—” Peter started.
Kill me now.
“He’s sure as hell not calling you.” Jeremiah laughed.
“Why? Because his girlfriend makes the decisions for the band?” Peter snapped back, rolling his eyes.
“Actually, she does,” Nixon stated, like it was an assessment of the weather.
My cheeks heated as everyone’s focus shifted to me.
“She’s the assistant manager,” Nixon added with a shrug.
I was the assistant to the manager, but right now didn’t seem like the best time to argue semantics. “Let’s go find my parents,” I said softly to Nixon.
“Bullshit.” Peter’s voice held every note of disbelief possible to fit in two syllables.
“She is,” Nixon argued without raising his tone.
“You work for Hush Note?” Peter shook his head. “No way.”
“It’s not like it’s a secret.” My unflinching eyes met Peter’s wide ones.
“We keep it quiet,” Jeremiah admitted to me. “Figure if you wanted anyone to know, you’d post it on the social media you don’t have.”
“Wait, you don’t have social media?” Nixon’s mouth dropped.
“Not the time.” I lifted my brows.
“Just wait until we have our next argument about the requirement that I have one.” The corner of his lips lifted in a smirk.
“It’s not remotely the same, and you know it.” The only people who wanted to keep up on my life were in my family.
“It’s not?”
“It’s not,” I confirmed. “I’d have all of six followers, and all of them live right here in Legacy. Besides, I’m too busy making sure someone else’s social media is well-managed and just a little less colorful than his real life.”
“I’d follow you.” He leaned down slightly, wicked delight dancing through his brown eyes. “Twitter. Instagram. Even Facebook. I’d love to know what your Hogwarts House and Disney Princess mash-up quiz says.”