Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
I eyed my closet with a frown. I wasn’t sure I owned anything that would catch a man’s attention, even if I wanted it. With a sigh, I grabbed my coat and switched off the light. Men weren’t in the cards for me at present, not with an ex-boyfriend always hovering in the shadows. Besides, I had to concentrate on the boys. Once they’d both graduated, I’d worry about the rest of my life. For now, they had to be my priority.
I ran smack-dab into Jake as I left my room. At seventeen, and well over six feet, with shoulders broader than a barn, Jake was the quintessential football jock from a small town that loved football. He played quarterback for the Ennis Mustangs, who were in the hunt for a state championship this year. His football prowess had earned him recognition inside Montana, and outside of the state as well. He was being courted by some of the top football schools in the country, like the Oklahoma Sooners and Ohio State Buckeyes. His future was bright if I could keep his head on the straight and narrow. I had my work cut out for me, though. His blond hair and green eyes made him look like a surfer dude from California, so the girls in town were circling him like vultures.
“Watch it,” I grumbled as I slid past.
A sharp crack, followed by an even sharper sting to my backside, made me yelp and spin around. Jake chuckled as he made his way into his room, the towel he’d used on his wet hair draped over his shoulder like a smoking gun. He glanced at me with a smirk, then scowled and stopped in his tracks.
“Are you wearing makeup?”
“Who’s wearing makeup?” Josh asked from his room, then his head popped through the open door and he looked at me. Josh would be as tall as Jake when he was finished growing, but unlike Jake, Josh wasn’t a jock. He had the same color hair as Jake and me. Same green eyes we got from our mother, but he slid through life in the shadows, writing in journals like Edgar Allan Poe, ignoring the world in general. His grades sucked as much as his attitude most days. If he made it to eighteen without being arrested, I swore I’d join a convent and give my life over to God in gratitude.
“You’re gonna be late,” I said using the mom voice I’d perfected at the age of ten. “Let’s get a move on.”
“Why is she wearing makeup?” Josh asked Jake, ignoring me, per usual. “That just spells trouble.”
Why I cared they’d noticed, I’ll never know, but I felt a flush run up my cheeks. I dropped my head back on my shoulders to cover my reaction while they both continued to ignore my order to get the lead out. What I wouldn’t give to instill just an ounce of fear in either one of them.
“Guys! Move!” I forced a little more threat into my voice.
Jake walked forward and scanned my face, his brows furrowing, giving his surfer dude looks an edge. “I don’t like it,” he mumbled.
My head jerked in surprise, a little bit hurt, if I was honest. “What? Why?”
“You work in a bar. If you look like that, you’re gonna get hit on nonstop, and you don’t need any more trouble with Ty.” Ty was my ex-boyfriend from high school. He tended to forget we broke up five years ago and caused trouble at the bar if men showed me too much attention.
I looked down at my ratty jeans and tennis shoes then tugged on the front of my hoodie. “You think this will inspire men to make passionate love to me?”
“Jesus, Skylar,” Josh grumbled, “fifteen-year-old in the room. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.”
I looked back at my baby brother. “You haven’t been fifteen since you were ten. Now get moving,” I ordered through gritted teeth.
“You should wash your face,” Jake continued, crossing his arms and glaring, looking so much like our father it physically hurt to look at him. “You’re just asking for trouble, and you know it.”
I threw my hands up and headed for the kitchen. I was done arguing with them. They needed something in their stomachs before we left. That’s what mothers did, or in my case: replacement mother, before driving you to school. They fed you. So, I grabbed a loaf of bread and threw a couple of slices in the toaster in hopes they’d let it go.
“She looks like a girl,” Josh said low, still not getting his rear end in gear.
“I am a girl, in case that escaped your notice,” I spat back. “Are you moving yet?”
Josh ignored me, yet again, and kept at it. “More than a girl, Jake, but a snack. We can’t have guys looking at her like that.”