Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
"Any women sitting right at this table?" I ask.
"Did you just ask me if I want my brother?" Her nose scrunches in distaste.
"No. Gross." Not as gross as her wanting my brother, but I'm going to just ignore that implication. "If all you want for your fling is muscles."
"No. Muscles and personality. But how do you find someone you can trust with your body and then not fall for them?"
"It's a delicate balance," I agree. "Wait. Is that why you're thinking of Jackson?"
"No. I… maybe." She bites her lip. "Would you kill me?"
"No. But if your parents found out…"
They wouldn't kill her. It would be much worse. They'd plan the wedding, they'd put a down payment on the house, they'd paint the future nursery.
And my parents would help.
Everyone is desperate to see Jackson settle down.
She nods I know. "Better to find someone else."
Probably better for him too. He takes everything seriously and always commits a hundred percent. He'd promise her a month and block his calendar for years. That's his nature.
"You didn't come here to see me though," I say.
She lets the words hang in the air. "Dad said something last night… I guess I got worried. I wanted to come by. Make sure Damon was okay."
"What did he say?"
"It's hard to explain." She starts to speak but stops herself.
There's something there. I almost see it, but the image is fuzzy, like it's behind a pane of frosted glass.
When did it get so hard for us to be honest with each other?
She smiles, but her heart isn't in it. "I'm sorry, Cass. I want to tell you. I want to talk about it with someone. With you. But I can't. It's a family thing."
I get it. I have my own family things. But it still hurts, being outside their circle, not being someone my best friend trusts.
I can't talk at the moment. I'm hiding the fact I fucked her brother.
"It's okay," I say. "We're adults now. We don't have to share anything."
She nods. "I hate keeping secrets."
"Me too."
"Would you tell me if he wasn't okay?" she asks.
"I would." That, I mean. But she is getting at something. What is it. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Cass."
Right. It's a family thing. I shouldn't press. Okay. That's fair.
The sound of footsteps interrupts us.
She reaches for her sunglasses and pushes them over her face. "Hey, loverboy." She drops the concern. "What are you doing kidnapping my best friend?"
The concern fades from his voice and finds its way into my head.
What the hell is going on in the Webb family?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cassie
After playing up my feelings of affection toward Damon for two weeks, I struggle to deny them. I keep laughing too hard at his jokes, lingering too long with my stares, and blushing when he looks at me like I hang the sun in the sky.
Daphne notices, but she doesn't say anything. We talk about nothing in particular over breakfast. Then Daphne and I take a walk to the beach, and I shift my focus to her. What exactly does she want for this short-term fling? Where do we want to find Mr. Right Now?
By the time we head back to the house, we have a short list of non-negotiable traits and a strategy for our search. Well, her search. She tells me in no uncertain terms that I'm welcome to help when she asks and only when she asks.
For a while, I forget I'm hiding something from my best friend. I forget I slept with her brother. I sink into our usual dynamic; I wade into the water; I drink too many iced lattes.
Thankfully, when we get back to the house, Laurel is already there. And she's busy having her way with my fake boyfriend, dressing him in different styles and snapping photos for her Instagram.
By the time she's done with him, we're due to leave for dinner. And since everyone insists on taking their own cars, I hug my best friend, and I wave see you soon as she pulls out of the driveway.
Relief floods my body as her car disappears.
I hate it. I hate keeping secrets.
Then Damon wraps his arm around my waist, and he whispers, "How about we say we got a flat?" and desire pushes away all the other feelings in my body.
I want him so badly.
So much I can barely breathe.
I nod of course, drag him into the house, have my way with him right there on the leather couch.
We walk into Mom and Dad's house to an audience of obnoxious siblings.
Laurel and Zack are sitting at the head of the dining table in their usual styles—Laurel has already changed into a cocktail dress and heels; Zack is in his typical t-shirt and jeans—sipping their usual drinks.
Right on cue, they stand and launch into a slow clap.
"Great use of time," Laurel says. "Sneak in that quickie."