Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“Huh, like punching a guy wasn’t dumb?” I had no idea Ledger went to Brody’s house; in fact, I never saw Brody after that one time. We didn’t have classes together, so that was to be expected. We’d met at a smoothie shop on campus, and after I didn’t see him there like I usually would, I assumed he was embarrassed. Evidently, it had a more to do with Ledger than anything else.
“It was worth it. You’re worth it.” He shrugs his shoulders like Brody couldn’t have pressed charges on him. Men are so weird. Things that would eat at a woman seem to be a blip on their radar.
“Thank you, I think.”
“No more talking about other men. You wanna talk to Nelle about it? Okay. To me, that part of your life is over. There’s no need to discuss it anymore.” I roll my eyes trying to conceal my laughter.
“So, since Chase took Nelle home, and Hank brought Heather home…” Ledger’s eyes zero in on me.
“Jesus take the fucking wheel, my woman is trying to match-make every damn person in Orange Blossom,” he breathes deeply, tips his head back, and tells the roof of the porch. Ledger may not have seen the way Hank looked at his mom, but I sure did. Nelle saw it, too. She was the one who nudged my shoulder when the two of them were talking as Heather tossed the shot of tequila back.
“Maybe Mrs. Marble will be next,” I poke the bear. I can see the annoyance settling in. He is clearly done with my nonsense.
“Tulsa Rose, leave it alone. If Mom and Hank date, let them. At least let it happen on their own terms. As for Mrs. Marble, good luck. She’s in a league of her own. Plus, do we know any man around her age who she’d be willing to date?”
“Who says he has to be her age? There are plenty of younger gentlemen here in Orange Blossom. Look at you, helping me. And they say romance is dead.” He must be over my shenanigans, because his mouth closes in on mine, tongue flicking at my lower lip, demanding entrance. The hand that was massaging my neck is now holding me where he wants me, taking me like only Ledger can. My mind shut down everything else except the two of us, exactly what I need and want.
29
LEDGER
“Hey, Ledger, can we talk for a minute?” Tulsa rounds the corner coming off the stairs. I’m sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, a hockey game on the television. The pro team from Florida has been on a hot streak. Usually, I’d watch the game with Chase, but since it’s Sunday afternoon and the last time I heard from him, he was with Nelle, I decided to stay home to watch it while Tulsa was working on her iPad.
“Sure. Everything okay?” I mute the television as she walks toward me, wearing one of my shirts and nothing else, her hair up in some kind of knot on top of her head with a pencil holding it in place. My hand reaches for hers. If we’re going to talk, she’s going to do it in my lap. Seems Tulsa had the same idea. She’s sitting sideways, legs outstretched across the couch, her back on the tall arm rest, much like the back. There’s nothing worse than having a low-slung couch, nowhere to put your head, and you’re stuck holding it up instead of relaxing against it. She holds one of my hands. I move the other to her smooth upper thigh, wedging it between, feeling the heat I was able to lick, taste, and fuck earlier this morning. I bet if I checked right now, she’d still have the remnants of us from earlier.
“Yep. Got a bit of work done to stay ahead of the week and then was looking at the investment portfolio.” Montgomery had it all laid out, allocating money each month into different funds, playing the market, and not conservatively. It’s a wonder he wanted to clear land for a living. The man’s mind was made for numbers. When he passed away, there were explicit instructions on how to handle the Williams’ money. How much Tulsa could and should live off of during college, and the majority of it going to her when she turned twenty-five. It didn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t spend a fucking cent of it. If Montgomery were around, Tulsa probably still wouldn’t have used the money. She made a name for herself when she worked part-time at the grocery store through high school, and she did the same thing in college, only as a teacher’s assistant.
“Is there a discrepancy?” I receive the monthly emails, showing what profits were gained or if anything was lost. Other than that, Flay has a company handling the bulk of it. All I do is check to make sure there isn’t a big chunk missing, and if there is, to backtrack it, usually to see the market took a dive. I’d like to think the investment company wouldn’t fuck around, but you can never be too sure.