Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“I’m never drinking again.”
Hugo leaned back against the wall and tugged her with him until she laid her head against his chest. “That might be best for everyone.”
“I mean it. It makes me maudlin. I start to think too much about where my life is going, how long it’s been since I’ve had sex with anything but a vibrator.”
Hugo pretended to wince. “Hold up now, Bronte. My innocent ears are bleeding.”
“Please, you hear worse every time Austen throws a GPP.”
“I say worse.” He couldn’t argue. “But then you mention something about ugly dicks or pervertible emergencies and the world makes sense again. I didn’t realize you were feeling lonely, Bronte. You should have talked to me.”
“You’ve been busy going crazy over your own bit of Irish ham.” She snorted wetly against his shirt. “Younger still likes me so don’t tell him I made a ham joke.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it. I remember you being touchy for a year that one time I called you piglet.”
“I won’t say anything.” Hugo shook his head. “My sister is married, but only until she can get an annulment, and we can’t tell the family. I’ve got all that, but there’s one thing I’m still confused about.”
“What’s that?” There was a hesitance in her voice that told him not to ask anything specific about William. He was dying to know why his normally practical older sister married a twenty-something troublemaker she’d wanted to punch practically from the moment they’d met.
He wouldn’t ask. Not today.
“Why karaoke?”
He’d startled a laugh out of her and she whacked him lightly on his chest in thanks. “It must have been a dare,” she finally managed. “You know I have a hard time resisting a challenge.”
He knew. “What now? Do I take you back to the Wayne-plex or should I get your husband’s permission first?”
She didn’t laugh or take offense at his teasing. Instead she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Hugo. I know this is probably the worst thing I could have done to you right now.”
He tried to smile. “Getting married? I could think of worse things. Having Wild William for a neighbor sounds like a bad idea for everyone at the moment.”
“You know I’m talking about Solomon. It’s been two weeks and you still haven’t told me what happened between the two of you this time.”
“I’m not ready yet.” He wasn’t sure if he ever would be. Not this time. He was doing his damnedest not to think about it at all, working himself to exhaustion and helping his brother Emerson hunt for a home of his own.
Maybe he’d take a turn at living in the apartment above his parent’s garage. He loved spending time with his brothers and sisters, but he needed a change. He could feel the way they looked at him now. Saw the eggshells they were walking on, and it only made things worse.
The only problem with the garage plan was his mother’s special brand of ESP. She always knew when something was wrong with one of her children. Part of Hugo was surprised she hadn’t already made her way to the station because she’d “sensed” Bronte’s tears.
If he moved in next door, she would realize he was missing a vital piece of his heart. She would sense the absence, the void he’d been feeling inside his chest since he’d sent Solomon away.
At least she couldn’t read his mind. More and more often, he’d been considering heading south for a while. Taking a job somewhere warm and sunny, miles away from all things Finn.
She wouldn’t like that plan at all. Cassandra Wayne had strong feelings about families sticking together. Preferably within the same zip code until retirement or death.
“Hugo? Don’t shut me out. I told you about my drunken wedding. Fair is fair.”
He was already shaking his head before she finished speaking. “Not here, Bronte. Not in his office, surrounded by his things. I’ll talk, I promise, but can it wait until we’re somewhere else?”
Bronte nodded, standing up and straightening the outfit he’d just gotten around to noticing. “Where did you get that dress, Bronte-saurus?”
She adjusted the cap sleeves and tugged up the plunging neckline to make it as modest as possible. “Austen’s closet. I was sick of wearing scrubs and sweatpants, and I knew she’d never miss it. Our sister has more dresses than one woman needs.”
He couldn’t let her leave the office like that. Bronte was busting out all over. “You have a jacket?”
“Over there.”
Relieved, he tugged it off the chair, frowning as he realized who it belonged to. “This isn’t your jacket.”
Bronte slid on the oversized wool coat, watching as it swallowed her completely. “What’s his is mine. That’s marriage, little brother.”
***
Solomon walked into the interrogation room, oddly thankful for the yelling that instantly assaulted his eardrums, distracting him from his reaction to seeing Hugo storm into his office.