Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Yeah, I’d thought the same thing.
“Well, maybe he used artistic license for your sake,” I suggested, reaching for another bowl. “Perhaps he has a vague memory of her, and his mind filled in the blanks.”
“Maybe.” Pierce leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. “But my mom was deathly afraid of large animals, especially horses. She got thrown off one when she was twelve and broke her leg in three places.”
“Oh,” I mumbled.
“We had a conversation about horses before she died. She was watching one of my first Baxter films in the hospital, The Bounty Chaser. There’s a scene where Baxter is on horseback in the desert. He lunges across his saddle to pull the bad guy down with his horse at full gallop. Obviously, my stunt double handled the action, but it was intense and my mom called me, all freaked out after she saw it. She said it gave her PTSD and went into graphic detail about protruding bones and the agony of wearing a cast in the summer. The painkillers were fucking with her hormones, and she was seriously agitated.”
“Huh.” That was weird.
“You heard him. Jasper was very specific about the horse phase, and now I can’t just ask him because the dude is in the fucking hospital hooked up to oxygen and machines reading his vital signs and—”
I whirled to face him and stabbed a finger at his chest. “Stop it. Here. You can stack those dishes in the dishwasher. Make yourself useful and get a grip while you’re at it.”
He furrowed his brow, then shooed me away. “No problem. Step aside.”
I let him take over. I grabbed a couple of water bottles and slid one toward him. “Should I offer your bodyguard water too?”
“He’s fine.”
“Is he still outside?” I asked.
“He’s probably in the SUV.”
“Are you allowed to be here without a guard?”
Pierce snorted. “I’m not in a witness protection program, Lorenzo. I’m just…”
“Famous,” I supplied, sipping my water.
“Hmph.” He continued stacking cups willy-nilly with his head bent. I studied his strong jaw and let my gaze drift to his broad shoulders, snapping to attention when he tilted his chin toward me. “How about you? Are you okay?”
“I’m a little shaken, but this isn’t the first time Mr. Gowan has been admitted for breathing issues. Enid will make sure he’s seen to promptly.”
Pierce nodded. “Good. Hey, I’m happy to take you to the hospital if you need a ride or…wherever.”
“Thanks, but there’s no point in visiting him till he has a room. They won’t let me in.” I swallowed hard, adding, “He’ll be okay.”
Of course, I didn’t know if that was true, but I needed to hear someone say it. Even if it was me.
Pierce rinsed a plate, then glanced over at me. “What’s wrong with him?”
I sucked in a gulp of air and slowly released it, deflating like a sad balloon in dire need of a helium boost.
“Emphysema, heart disease, maybe something else he doesn’t talk about.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I hate to see him suffer.”
Pierce rearranged a couple of mugs and moved them from the top rack to the bottom. “How long have you known him?”
“Ten years, give or take. He was my first big client,” I replied, pointing at the dishwasher. “Mugs go on the top rack.”
He cocked his head curiously and studied the dishwasher. “Since when?”
“Since always. You should fix that.”
“Is there a ‘How to Stack Dishes in the Dishwasher’ rulebook I missed?” he snarked, grumbling as he made room for the mugs on top.
“There should be.”
“Hmm. So…have you been together that whole time?”
My brow knit in confusion. “Together? What do you mean?”
“You know…together.”
“No. I don’t know. You don’t think we’re…” I set my water bottle on the counter and made a heart with my hands. “Do you?”
He winced. “I didn’t say you were, but I-I wasn’t sure…”
Laughter bubbled in my throat and spilled out in one loud guffaw. “Seriously? That’s so…ha! Why would you think that?”
“You seem to know him well and—” He turned off the faucet and set his hands on his hips. “All right, all right. Apparently, I was wrong. Sue me.”
“I might!” I hooted. “I call him Mr. Gowan, for fuck’s sake! Wasn’t that a clue?”
“Maybe?” he conceded. “But you never know what the dynamic is in any relationship. I know a woman who calls her husband ‘Daddy’ all the time. And now that I think about it, the old couple who lived next door to my mom called each other Mr. and Mrs. Snyder. It was…cute.”
I rolled my eyes. “My respectful intonation and the fact that I’ve repeatedly referred to him as a friend and client should have told the story. You’ve got yourself a dirty-ass mind. Do you think I’m some kind of gold-digging ho?”
“No, of course I don’t think that. But some people have…arrangements, you know?”
I gaped incredulously. “Like a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ sex pass? Just when I think you might not be a total jackass, you open your mouth and prove me wrong. You, my friend, are a turd.”