More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“How do cows fart?” Kaylee asks. “The same way dogs fart,” I say simply. Ryder looks horrified in the passenger seat. “How do dogs fart?” Kaylee asks. I don’t miss a beat. “The same way cats fart.” “How do—” Ryder turns around in his seat. “The same way every animal on the planet farts.” It’s cute he thinks that means she’ll stop. “How do aliens fart?” There it is. Ryder groans. I answer like any sane person would. “We don’t even know if aliens have butts. If they don’t have butts, they can’t fart.”
“He’s only Ryder. Nothin’ special.” I shrug. Ryder tilts his head in my direction. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?” I turn to the group. “If you tell him his music is bad, he’ll give you a job.” Kathy widens her eyes at me. “Lyric Jones, please tell me you didn’t do that?” “I soooo did, but it worked out for me.”
“Oh, right. You know, sometimes it’s easy to forget you’re famous.” “You mean, me signing autographs and taking pictures for almost an hour today didn’t remind you?” “It did, but here”—Lyric’s hand cups my cheek—“you’re just Ryder to me.” Damn. Why do those words affect me so deeply? It’s like they’re reaching into my soul and giving me something I didn’t know I desperately needed.
I somehow manage to navigate the car into the garage, but I’m so not getting it into its spot. Yeah, my babies have designated spots. Like their own little bedrooms. It’s not weird.
“We have an hour to ourselves …” That snaps him out of whatever’s going on in his head and brings a wicked smile to his lips. “What about the dishes?” “Fuck the dishes.” “Hmm, I’d rather not, but I mean, I guess if you’re into that …”
I narrow my eyes. “But …” “But what?” “Sounds like there was going to be a but coming.” Ryder grits his teeth. “Do not make a joke about coming in butts,” he mutters to himself.