Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
I just chuckled.
Better for her to make a mess of it than for it to sit unfinished on my table for months.
I turned on my Bluetooth speaker as I rounded into my kitchen, putting on a kid-friendly, but not annoying, playlist. That was literally the name of the playlist on Spotify — Kid Friendly, Not Annoying.
That last part was essential, since I spent most of my day listening to either kids or cartoons singing.
I could keep an eye on Ava through the window cut out in my kitchen, only a bar and a couple of stools between us. Not that I really felt like I needed to. Out of all my students, Ava was the easiest to handle.
So, with her occupied and my hands mindlessly working to make us a snack tray, I let my thoughts drift to Will Perry.
The man was a magnetic force.
Tall as a tree, muscles like a bull, and the saddest golden-brown eyes I’d ever seen.
The first time I’d met him, I’d had to actively work to keep myself from drooling. He was an exact replica of the cover model for one of the Harlequin romances I’d snuck into our house when I was fourteen — one I’d kept hidden from my mother and grandmother and re-read more times than I could count.
His chestnut hair was long and unruly, flowing to his shoulders and highlighted by the sun with strands of gold like he was Hercules. He had the kind of jaw that could cut glass, it was so sharp, and though his pouty lips never did curve into a smile, that didn’t make it any less difficult to not stare at his mouth.
He was just… beautiful. Achingly so. The way the last sunset on a beach vacation is.
I didn’t have to hear his life story to see that he’d been through pain. He wore it like armor, his lips in a thin line, brows furrowed, hand tight around his daughter’s like he didn’t trust anyone to properly care for her.
Judging by how fast he’d gone through a half-dozen nannies since Ava started school, he had reason to feel that way.
Today, that severe gaze of his had been tinted with anxiety.
And so, without even thinking twice, I’d offered to help.
Not that I wouldn’t have helped even if I did stop to think before opening my mouth. I was so desperate for something to do with my spare time that I’d jump at practically any opportunity. There were only so many nights I could spend sewing a new outfit, knitting a scarf that I’d never wear because it’s too damn hot in Florida anyway, or bingeing the latest true crime podcast.
You could go on a date, a voice whispered in my brain, but it was snuffed out by the louder voice that reminded me all the reasons that wasn’t a good idea.
The most prevalent being that my matriarchy would likely disown me.
I grew up in a house ruled by scorned women. My mother was a single mom, raising me to be independent from the time I could walk in some sort of effort to spite my father and every other man on Earth. She was brought up by a single mom, too — my grandmother, who was not too shy to remind her daughter what a constant disappointment she was for following in her footsteps despite my grandmother’s warnings.
After my father left, Grandma moved in with us. And between the two of them, I was surrounded by an ever-present reminder that all men were trash.
And after the one experience of my own with the opposite sex in college? I had to agree.
I didn’t think of boys much when I was younger, but when I turned thirteen, something inside me just… clicked. I was instantly boy crazy, hyperaware of every time a boy so much as looked at me, let alone brushed past.
By the time I was in high school, I was sneakily watching romance movies on my laptop and hiding books in my room like they were paraphernalia. I spent multiple nights a week under my comforter with my eyes wide as I read Wattpad stories. I listened to the few friends I had tell me stories of dating and going to first, second, or third base with my phone in hand, feverishly taking notes.
But I knew better than to even try to date in my household.
It wasn’t until I left for college that I had enough guts to kiss a boy. It was slimy and gross and didn’t do much for me, but I didn’t want to be a virgin my entire life, so I let the guy have his way with me in the back bedroom of a house party.
My head hung off the bed the whole time, and he had an old Chingy song playing on his speaker.