Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I’m walking him to the front door when my phone rings. I glance at it and see Taylor’s name on the screen, along with a picture of us at the book signing.
Shane glances at it, then does a double take. “Seriously? My daughter has your fucking number, and I don’t?” He pouts, grabbing my phone and hitting Accept. “How did you get—”
“Hey!” I say through my laughter. “Give that back. We are definitely nowhere near the stage where you get to answer my phone.”
Taylor barks out a laugh as I snatch my phone from Shane and put her on speaker.
“Is that my dad with you?” she asks even though she already knows the answer.
“Yes, and he’s butthurt that you have my number and he doesn’t.”
Taylor giggles over the phone. “What can I say? Hos over bros.”
Her dad scoffs, “There is so much wrong with all of this that I don’t even know where to start. Are you at home?”
“Yeah, I just got home. I was calling to see if Kinsley has read the new Anna Peterson book that came out this morning. I devoured it during school today, and I need to vent.”
“Glad to know you’re getting such a wonderful education,” Shane deadpans.
“I haven’t,” I admit. “Between yoga with my mom this morning, working all afternoon, and …” I glance at Shane, my cheeks heating up at the thought of how we spent this evening, and he smirks. “I’ve been busy,” I say after clearing my throat. “I’m hoping to read it tonight if your dad will ever leave.”
He rolls his eyes. “Give me your number, and I’ll go.”
“Nope,” I say, popping the P for dramatic effect.
At this point, I’m just having fun, messing with him.
“I’ll text you once I start it and let you know what I think,” I say to Taylor.
“Okay, sounds good. See you when you get home, Dad. Bye!”
Taylor hangs up, and Shane grips the curve of my hip, pulling me toward him until our bodies are flush.
“I think it would only be right that your boyfriend has your number,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Who said anything about you being my boyfriend?” I scoff.
“You,” he says, bending slightly and licking the seam of my lips. “You said you wanted labels and promises.”
“And I do,” I admit, my heart thumping in my chest at the thought of moving forward. Only instead of being consumed by guilt, I’m filled with excitement. “It’s been years since I’ve been in a relationship, but I’m pretty sure the guy is supposed to actually ask the woman to be his girlfriend, not demand it like a Neanderthal.”
I quirk a brow, and Shane barks out a laugh.
“All right, Sour Patch.” He gives me a chaste kiss, and I expect him to follow it up with asking me to be his girlfriend, so I’m shocked and confused when he steps back. “I’d say I’ll call or text when I get home, but I don’t have your number, so … I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
With a panty-dropping wink, he opens the door and walks out, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened.
One second, I thought Shane and I were going to make things official, and I was ready to, and the next, he’s walking away while leaving whatever is going on between us in limbo.
Men. They can be so damn frustrating.
EIGHTEEN
Shane
“Ask her to be my girlfriend? Seriously? What are we, teenagers?” I grumble as I mix the pancake batter for breakfast.
It’s been thirty-six hours since I left Kinsley’s house after she told me the only way that we’re making shit official is by me asking her.
Since I had to work my shift yesterday and the station was slow, I had a lot of time to overthink this, and the only thing I’ve come up with is that it needs to be romantic because she’s a romance reader, and if my daughter has shown me anything, it’s that romance readers have high expectations when it comes to shit like this.
I let out a sigh of annoyance, at a loss as to how to go about this, and nearly drop the bowl when Taylor appears out of nowhere.
“What’s got you all huffy?” she asks, reaching around and grabbing a few blueberries and popping them into her mouth.
“Kinsley wants to date me.”
“Really?” she squeals. “That’s amazing!” She jumps up and down, but when I don’t show my own enthusiasm, she stops and looks at me. “Why does it sound like you’re unhappy about it? I thought this is what you wanted.”
“Oh, I am happy,” I tell her, pouring the batter onto the skillet. “But apparently, mentioning that I’m her boyfriend without actually asking her to be my girlfriend is unacceptable.”
Taylor gasps, her hands dramatically going to her chest. “You didn’t ask her out?”