Imperfect Bastard by Pamela Ann Read Free Book Online

brown sugar and the nutty whiff of walnuts topped with abundant banana frosting.
    “Fuck,” I viciously groaned in protest before I finally found the strength to shut the lid and situate it on the side table, choosing the coffee, instead.
    This shit was lethal for my diet and my poor heart.
    Getting on with my morning, I buzzed about, readying myself and making sure I had every single piece of paperwork needed for school. Then I stepped out of my room before hesitantly pausing right outside Drew’s bedroom door.
    Was he home? He had to be…
    But upon opening his door, I was greeted by a made bed and no Drew Cavendish in sight. He probably had gone to school early, or maybe he had merely dropped these off and left. Whatever Drew had aimed to achieve with the impromptu treats this morning, be it my forgiveness or something else, I had to concede that he had succeeded in making himself significant in the majority of my thoughts.
    Once I got to school, I immediately sought out my designated advisor, having an appointment with him first. Upon meeting him, he proceeded to go through my schedule. We spoke about what my intended goal was for this semester before he gave me a thorough rundown of what NYU had to offer when it came to extracurricular activities such as fellowships and organizations that could potentially pique my interest.
    My classes were solidly filled from Tuesday through Thursday from eight a.m. to six p.m. It was either I joined something or found a part-time job somewhere to fill the rest of my week.
    My parents wouldn’t be too keen about me having a job while in school. Most parents would actually encourage it, but mine were the kind who liked to get monthly dividends from the family business without lifting a finger, so they had no idea what the word “working” really entailed.
    Not to sound harsh, but thank fuck I hadn’t inherited their mentality. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself quite honestly. Whatever I decided, it would be for the benefit of mental maturity and life experience. And since Jackson had gotten away with whatever he was up to with his secret school, then I was pretty sure I could do as I pleased as long as it didn’t reach my parents’ ears.
    My next stop was the NYU Bookstore to get all the books I needed this semester. It took me a couple of hours to gather them all since I was often distracted, wandering around the rows of bookshelves, just browsing through books that captured my attention.
    It was right after I paid for my items that my phone beeped, indicating a text message received. It was from my brother Jackson.
    Dinner at home. Drew’s cooking. Hope you’re okay. See you later, booger!
    Glancing at the time on the top screen of my phone, it stated it was fifteen past five. Well, I supposed this would be a good opportunity to discuss chores. And Drew offering to cook was always a good sign. Besides, I had missed his barbeques; they were the best. Then again, I hardly thought he would be dishing that out tonight. He’d probably opted for pasta or something along those lines. And as for those cupcakes, how could I even begin broaching that topic? I supposed I should see how tonight’s conversation panned out and decide from there.
    I wasn’t particularly excited, nor was I indifferent about it, but maybe leaning a bit more toward blasé, so  I surely wasn’t scurrying up to get to the apartment. When I finally got home and opened the door, the lovely smell of garlic sautéed in butter made my mouth water. It was one thing to be hot and all around sexy, but it was another to be hot, all around sexy, and be able to seriously cook a mean meal. And Drew was all of that and then some.
    “I’m home!” I announced as I strode toward the hall then into the kitchen where I found Drew with messy bed-head hair and his cargo pants hanging low, just a tad below his pelvis. He was barefoot and donning only a black apron to cover his bare chest while he used metal tongs to