Looks like you don't have to wait another month for the next update - it's right here, right now, curtousy of me. Hooray? I sure think so. Dedicated to MonsterInTheMirror, whose comments always make me smile, and who likes giraffes ;)
The Eighth Reason
“No.”
“But – “
“No.”
When a borderline handsome guy shows up at your door with ice cream, a toddler, and ‘Electronic Banking Monopoly,’ most people would let him in, if only for the ice cream. But I had to be the exception; I slammed the door in Thatcher’s face.
If he thought I would help him baby-sit some rugrat he found by the side of the road, he was sorely mistaken.
Maybe.
He rang the doorbell once, and then twice, and then a third time, before I felt inclined to at least hear him out. I slid my fingers around the doorknob again, winced slightly, and pulled.
“What do you want?” I asked in my most hostile tone, which turned out slightly whiny. I sounded like a teenager who didn’t want to miss Jimmy’s party. God.
Thatcher laughed a little before stopping himself. “I have to watch my brother’s daughter, little Sofia here. I thought that I could convince you to let us in, but apparently I was wrong.”
Sofia, who was gripping a giraffe in one hand and Thatcher’s arm in the other, nodded defiantly. “Wrong.”
“Looks like your going to find somewhere else to play Monopoly,” I retorted, easing the door shut again.
He reached out to intercept me before I could slam the door again. “Please Bronwyn?”
“No.”
“You know you want to play Monopoly.”
“In your dreams.”
My resistance made his shoulder slump a little, his sigh becoming agitated. “I would go to my place, but it’s become Brides R Us. Flowers. Centerpieces. Stacks of misspelled wedding invitations wherever you look. Everyone’s worst nightmare.”
Sofia nodded again, shuddering as if to prove that wedding invitation were about as terrifying as the devil himself.
I looked from Thatcher to Sofia, and back again, feeling my resolve crumble, the rules slowly turning into grit and gravel beneath my feet.
“Fine,” I grumbled, “but no touching anything.”
I stepped inside to let the grinning brigade into my living room, internally cursing myself for breaking the Golden Rule.
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.
