Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
He was leaning against the doorway. “Thank you for taking him.”
“No problem.” I waved again and got a short one in return.
I didn’t want to say I ran to the garage apartment, but I definitely walked fast.
And just as I shoved the flashlight under my armpit to aim it at the doorknob, I heard the crunch of tires on gravel and panicked. Where was the key? As long as I didn’t see Mr. Rhodes, he couldn’t tell me to beat it, right? Shoving my hand into my pocket, I tried to find it but couldn’t. Damn it! Back pocket! Back pocket!
The headlights caught me just as my fingertips touched the cool key.
And I dropped it.
“You okay?” I heard Johnny holler.
He was watching. Probably laughing as I panicked. Did he know what I was doing?
“I’m fine! Just dropped the key!” I yelled back, sounding rabid and panicky because I was as I patted around the ground.
The headlights weren’t moving anymore, I realized just as I found the damn key again.
I heard a door open and slam closed just as I pushed it into the lock.
“Hey,” a gruff voice called out.
Play it cool. Everything was fine. He owed me, didn’t he? I’d saved his son. Kind of. “Hi,” I called back, resigned. Busted.
The lights caught a silhouette as my landlord slash neighbor crossed in front of his Bronco. “Aurora, right?” the man asked. Tobias. Mr. Rhodes.
I totally turned around, flipping off my flashlight when it hit him in the chest. He had a T-shirt on. His headlights lit him up from the back, but I didn’t have that good of a view of his face.
Was he mad? Was he going to kick me out?
“That’s me.” I held back a gulp. “Can I help you with something?”
“Thank you for what you did” was his reply, catching me off guard.
Oh. “It was no problem,” I told the shadowed part of his front. He’d stopped just a few feet away, arms crossing over his chest, I was pretty sure.
He didn’t sound mad. That was a good thing. Then again, he had no idea I’d just left his house.
He took another step forward, but I still couldn’t see him that well, just the overall shape of his frame, so wide at the top and narrow at the hips. Did he go to a gym? There was one in town. He had to. Nobody looked like that naturally.
The man’s deep sigh had me trying to peer at his face.
“Look….” He seemed to struggle for his words, his tone just as stern as the first time I’d heard it. “I owe you. Am told me what happened.” His exhale was loud but steady. “I can’t thank you enough,” he rumbled in his hard voice.
“You’re welcome.” The less I said, the better.
Another exhale. “I owe you. Big-time.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
Another sigh, then, “I do.”
“No, I promise you don’t,” I threw back. “Please, really, you don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad I could help and that he’s fine.”
He didn’t say anything for so long I partially expected him not to, but what he did do was take another step forward and then another until he stood closer, arms loose at his sides, so near I could get another good look at that incredible face. The hard, sharply defined bones of his features were tight. He was in jeans, and his T-shirt had a fish on it.
He was definitely mid to late thirties. Maybe early forties.
An excellent mid-thirties to maybe early forties. I bet he’d just gone gray young. It happened. There was a singer I’d known who had gone totally silver by twenty-seven.
And his age was none of my business.
There were other things I needed to worry about, and I might as well get them over with. He was going to find out anyway, and if he felt like he owed me, maybe he’d forgive me and not kick me out. I could only hope. “I went over to your house real quick, and Johnny let me in. I just wanted to check on your son. I stood at the doorway and was only there for ten minutes, if that. Johnny was there the whole time. Please don’t get mad.”
Again, he didn’t respond fast enough to make me feel better. He just… looked at me. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but I could see the whites at the edges.
That’s what my honesty got me, I guess, and I squirmed.
“I’m not mad,” my landlord said slowly before exhaling once more. His grumbling voice was still hard, but something about his features seemed to soften a microscopic amount. “I owe you. I appreciate what you did. I don’t know how I’ll pay you back, but I’ll figure it out somehow.”
He took another deep breath, and I braced.
“I’m… sorry for how I handled you being here.”