Hey, I'm getting better. Less than a month since the last update! I'm still going to be doing some editing on this chapter, but here it is!
The Seventeenth Reason
After smashing a plate, spilling enough dish soap induce a heart attack in his neat-freak mother, and bending a spoon almost completely in half, I was forced to ban Thatcher from dish duty. Sure, his heart was in the right place, but I feared for the plates’ safety. And mine.
“The thing is,” Thatcher said, swinging one leg back and forth. It made a steady thump against the cabinets, so loud that it had sent Jane into a tailspin. Twice. “I’m a magnet for trouble.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“’Trouble’ implies that you’re some sort of rebel, breaking away from the law,” I said. “I think the word you were looking for was ‘klutz.’”
“Klutz?” He furrowed his eyebrows together. “I’m a magnet for klutz? That doesn’t make sense. It’s, like, the worst grammar I’ve heard spew from your mouth, ever. Sofia could construct a better sentence than that, and she’s, what, six?”
“My mouth doesn’t spew anything.” I sounded defensive, my arms folded over my chest in the universal ‘oh yeah?’ position. “I grace humanity with my eloquence.”
Thatcher chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine, you win. You are the queen of – of –“
“A higher vocabulary?”
“I was thinking something more like not-word-spewing, but that works,” he said easily, hopping off the counter.
I held my dishtowel up as threateningly as I could manage. Which was hard, considering it didn’t exactly scream ‘one more step and you die’. I doubted that it was going to make any rough-and-tumble guys quake in their boots anytime soon.
“Woah,” he held his hands up in defeat. “Just snagging a piece of crust before Scarlet gorges herself. Pie is the only thing standing between my sister and the cover of a Weight Watcher’s magazine.”
I guess I could let it slide. The idea of Thatcher trying to help again made me quake in my boots. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
“She’s a lot like you.”
“Scarlet?”
I glared at him. “Who else would I be talking about?”
“Well,” he scratched at his face thoughtfully. “The pie, maybe. If you hadn’t gotten the recent news flash that they are gender neutral.”
I smirked. “Recent?”
“Boats are a she. Cars are a she. Why can’t pie be a she?”
YOU ARE READING
99 Reasons Why It Wasn't Love
RomanceBronwyn Kirk doubts that anyone can be as much of a romantic wreck as her - until she meets Thatcher Lucas, divorcee, bad driver, and determined to find out about Bronwyn's past.
