Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4) by Elizabeth Hayley (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗

He said it in one breath, and I tried my hardest not to laugh.

“It’s not a cat outfit,” I said, trying to sound disgruntled but likely failing miserably because I was too excited at the prospect of seeing Ransom. Damn it.

Chapter Fourteen

T A Y L O R

It felt weird to have Ransom on his way over because even though we hung out as a group and worked together, we hadn’t really spent any time with just each other. It made me wonder if this was a good idea, especially considering the fact that I’d been trying to shake Brad for months and had obviously failed. Getting involved with someone else would only complicate things.

But then there was the small problem of how much I liked Ransom. I couldn’t shake that either. I’d tried. And it wasn’t just that his body looked like it’d been sculpted by Michelangelo—chiseled and large and hard—God, I need to stop thinking about how gorgeous he is.

Except he was so much more than his looks. He’d been through hell but still held a sense of optimism that was inspiring.

I looked forward to going to Safe Haven for more than just the chance to make a difference in the kids’ lives. It was a chance to see Ransom, a chance to talk to Ransom. And he’d opened up to me about his past, which had been more than unexpected—not only what he’d been through but also that he’d been comfortable enough to share it with me.

And now he was on his way over to see me in my cat jammies and watch episodes of a show he had no idea if he’d like. What did I get myself into? At least I had a few minutes before he arrived since he’d said he was going to head home to change into comfortable clothes too before he came over.

I was just stepping out of the shower when I heard my phone ring. Expecting it to be Ransom, I ran over to the mattress that was my bed, where I’d tossed my phone before heading into the bathroom.

“Hey,” I said, pressing the phone between my shoulder and ear.

“Hey, TayTay.” The high-pitched voice was definitely not Ransom. I was so thrown off, it took me a second to realize it was my mom. Like when you picked a glass up off the counter expecting it to be full, but it wasn’t so your arm flew up into the air. If Ransom was chocolate milk, my mom was sour lemonade—an acquired taste that, well, I hadn’t quite acquired yet.

“Oh, hey, Mom,” I said, trying my best to sound more excited than I felt. I loved my mom and I knew she loved me, so I felt bad that I had no real desire to speak to her most of the time.

“Are you having trouble with your phone?”

“No.”

She was probably asking because I never answered and often silenced her calls, causing it to go to voicemail after only a ring or two.

“Huh.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Because I can get you a new one or pay for unlimited data if that’s the problem. I completely sympathize with your situation, having to pay for your own food and housing. At your age, that must be practically unbearable.”

“I’m getting by.” I looked around at my bedroom, which still only consisted of a foam mattress and a side table I’d gotten from IKEA. I’d barely even managed to put the thing together.

“Well,” she scoffed, “I don’t like the idea of my daughter ‘getting by.’ You should have money to go out with your friends or treat yourself to a mani-pedi from time to time.”

“It’s honestly okay,” I told her. “I’m adjusting to all of it.” I put my mom on speaker so I could look through the piles of folded clothes I’d put on a bedsheet on my floor. It wasn’t quite a dresser, but it would do for my T-shirts, workout clothing, and pajamas since my closet was only big enough to fit my work essentials and other pieces that would get wrinkled easily.

“But you’re young. You should be going on adventures and enjoying life. Speaking of, did I tell you I’m riding a kangaroo in a few days?”

“You did not tell me that, no.” I pulled on some underwear and the teal cat tank top that I was just realizing was more worn than I remembered. Ransom would be here any minute, and I didn’t want to disappoint him by wearing something other than my PJs with creepy cats all over them. So I found the matching pants and put those on too.

“Are you sure? Because I feel like I mentioned it.”

“Nope. I’d definitely remember you telling me about your impending death.”

She laughed like I was the one who sounded ridiculous. “Oh, stop. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Right,” I said dryly. “Because you’re going to die, so you won’t get to do it again.”

“Nonsense. Joe told me about this wildlife sanctuary not too far from here. It’s very expensive, but it’s a whole experience. They let you pet the roos before you ride one.”

Did she just say roos? “Aren’t kangaroos known for being aggressive?”

“Well, I’m sure they’re heavily sedated, honey. There’s no way they’d let you on otherwise.”

“Sounds like quite a sanctuary they have there.” I headed to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair and brush my teeth.

“It is!” she said, missing my sarcasm. “They have their own restaurant. They make their own wine and even have kangaroo on the menu.”

“So you ride it…? And then you eat it…?” I wasn’t sure why I was even engaging in this conversation, but I found it too ridiculous not to.

“Well, not the same one. That’d be cruel.”

“Right.” Because they love being sedated and forced to carry around middle-aged women who have nothing else to do with their husbands’ money.

“Anyway,” she said, “that’s not why I called. I sent you something that should be there tomorrow, so I just wanted you