Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“You Ransom?” she asked, then yawned.
“To my dismay, yes.”
She shoved the baby into my hands. “Lawrence is upstairs, finishing a call. You can come in. I need to jump in the shower. This little nugget just threw up all over me.”
She turned around and left. I frowned at the baby, who frowned back at me. His expression said, don’t ask me. You guys are the adults here.
“Your mother is a nutcase,” I said, unsurprised. Lawrence had always had pedestrian taste when it came to the fairer sex.
I treaded inside, taking in the full bourgeois-conversion to which my good friend had succumbed.
Even though Law didn’t want for himself the same lifestyle chosen by Tom and me, we remained close. He was our big brother, in all the ways that mattered, and it never occurred to me to miss out on seeing him during my time in Texas.
I crouched down to place the tiny human onto a play mat shaped like a cloud when I heard a gruff voice emerging from the marbled stairway.
“You should get one of those.”
I straightened my spine. “The play mat or the baby?”
“Baby.”
“Not into pets.” I patted my hands clean, turning around to eyeball my friend. Lawrence was a six foot four behemoth of a man, with a bushy black beard and raven eyes to match.
He clapped my shoulder. “I see you’ve met Stassia and Emmanuel.”
“Up close and personal.” I sauntered into his trendy white kitchen, popping the fridge open. I was met with mountains of puree pouches and prepacked meals.
This was a mistake. I couldn’t ask this guy for advice. He was too far gone into Family Land.
“Don’t look so horrified. Beer’s in the garage cooler.” Lawrence closed the fridge’s door in my face. “Stassia should be down any minute. We can sit there. More private.”
We waited for Stassia to emerge from the quickest shower ever recorded. Once excused, we retired to the garage, where we popped beers and sat in front of a huge flat screen TV, tuning in to a baseball game.
“What brings you here?” Lawrence took a pull of his beer. “And please spare me the you-missed-me bullshit. We see each other exactly two times a year—both when I’m in Chicago for business.”
Law was a sports agent and did very well for himself.
“I’ve got a job in your neck of the woods.” I scratched my stubble.
“You travel all around the US and never made it to suburbia.” Law chuckled. “Whenever you show up, it’s because you wanna talk.”
Other than Lawrence, I never talked to anyone about anything. Tom was great, too, but he was too geographically close to me.
Looking around, I shrugged. “Your place is depressing.”
“Spill it out, then, sonny boy, and get outta here.”
No point in postponing why I’d come here. I needed to get my ass kicked.
“I made a boo-boo.”
“How big?”
“A wound shot?” I rubbed at my forehead, frustrated.
“Juicy.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m listening.”
“I almost fucked the ward yesterday.”
Lawrence’s face broke into a huge grin. “That’s great news, buddy.”
Had he lost his grasp of the English language?
“Did you hear what I said?” I sat back, my leg jerking impatiently. “I nearly fucked my entire operation, and an almost-underage girl in the process.”
“It’s the first time you ever lost control.” Lawrence toasted the air with his beer. “She must be special.”
“She’s special, all right. A special kind of nightmare,” I muttered.
His eyes widened with delight. He created a square with his fingers, aiming them at me. “That’s a Kodak moment if I’ve ever seen one. Ransom Lockwood, enamored. Looks like she’s giving you hell, too. I already like her.”
“She’s a child,” I spat out, as if it was Lawrence who stuck his finger into Brat yesterday, not me.
“How young are we talking here? Twenty-five? Twenty-three?”
I averted my gaze to his parked Chevy Suburban.
“Dayum!” Lawrence cackled, enjoying the show. “Eighteen?”
“No, you gross ass. Twenty-one.”
He whistled. “Rules are meant to be broken.”
“So are your bones, if you keep making light of it.” I peeled the label off the sweaty beer bottle, wondering if Max had adhered to my warning and kept his hands to himself today. I would tear him limb from limb if he crossed the line again.
“What’s with you? It’s not like you to get your panties in a twist about a woman.” Law turned off the TV, swiveling toward me. “Truth is, I’m kind of relieved someone managed to penetrate the surface with you. I was starting to worry your ass would never settle down. Nothing gets to you.”
“Beer does.” I raised the empty bottle in my hand. “Grab me another one.”
Law leaned down, seizing another beer from the cooler and hurling it my way. I caught it mid-air.
“And settling down is not an option. No woman can handle this much bullshit.” I pointed at myself.
“And yet, you’re here.” Law quirked a brow. “If you got it all figured out, why’re you asking for advice?”