Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
It’s a shitty explanation, but it’s all she’s going to get from me right now as I stand from the bed, knowing my erection is comically tenting my briefs.
To her credit, she doesn’t drop her eyes below my waist as I stand at the edge of the bed.
With a huff, she spins back around and reenters the bathroom with a small, zipped bag in her hands.
I spend a few moments watching her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she applies makeup, and despite her not needing a fucking drop of it, I’m smart enough not to voice my own opinion.
Instead, I tug the asshole role back on and shove the bathroom door completely open as I walk behind her inside. I feel her eyes on me as I lift the toilet lid to piss.
She doesn’t chastise me or huff or act grossed out. She also doesn’t pull her eyes from watching me in the mirror as I turn on the shower and strip out of my boxers and climb inside. Through the glass door, I catch her eyes on me more than once as I wash my body, and when she finally walks out of the room, I turn into fourteen-year-old Dylan Pratt again when it only takes a handful of strokes to bring myself to orgasm in the shower.
***
I don’t even have to look at Sylvie to know she’s upset as we approach her grandfather’s property. Her breathing changes, and she begins to fidget in her seat.
I park, taking in the pile of broken furniture on the porch, the three obviously broken-down cars parked in the front yard, and multiple rusting appliances. It looks like the beginning of a scrapyard, only worse.
The house is small, but I can immediately tell from the way she’s acting that the home she left so many years ago didn’t look like this.
And that’s just one more piece to the puzzle, something she had to have told me that night. How else would I know that she left Telluride for college and has never been back?
Jesus, what the hell happened that night? I don’t have lengthy conversations with women I bring home.
“It doesn’t look so bad,” I say, feeling like an idiot the second the words leave my mouth.
“Not everyone can grow up in the fucking suburbs, Dylan.”
She snaps my name out like she’s been saying it for years when she only learned it yesterday.
“How do you have any clue where I grew up?” I hiss, using anger to cover my unease.
“You fucking told me,” she growls just before swinging the passenger side door open and climbing out of the car.
I scrape my hands down my face. We did talk about it, I realize as flashes of her leaning against my chest in my familiar room in the clubhouse filter through my head.
A grunt makes my eyes snap open, and I’m out of the car in the next second after watching the toe of her shoe get caught on some trash in the yard.
“Stay behind me,” I growl as I close the distance between us.
She shoves at me, her warm hands little, ineffective tornadoes on my arm as she tries to shove me away from her.
“She’s an asshole, but she’s family,” Sylvie snaps, her feet never pausing as she makes her way toward the tiny porch.
She snaps to a halt as her eyes land on several waterlogged boxes sitting out in the elements, ruined as far as I can tell.
“I’ll fucking kill her,” she snaps, her hand closing into a fist to bang on the front door.
Chapter 11
Sylvie
My hand shakes as I lift it to knock on the splintered front door.
The old cars and broken appliances littering the front yard are one thing. Those can be hauled off and even sold for scrap metal, but the boxes of my grandfather’s things ruined on the front porch makes me see red.
I pound on the door, doing it a second time when no one answers. I ignore the pain in my hand because it doesn’t even compare to the ache in my heart.
I’ve never really been a sentimental woman. Big Daddy always said love is all you need. This of course came after neighborhood boys burned down the tiny shed we had out back. I was nine, and my bike was in there. I felt like I was losing my entire world that day. Big Daddy carried me to one of the local shops in town, both of us thankful that it was the off-season and not too crowded, and he let me pick out a new toy. I chose a deck of cards rather than the electronic dog that barked and wagged its tail because I knew we didn’t have much money. I can’t even begin to count how many evenings I sat with him and played Go Fish until I was old enough to learn more games. I carried that deck of cards with me to college, and it’s on my bookcase at home. I feel the love he talked about that day every single time I look at them.