Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“I’ll fix you something before we go,” I say, wondering if we’d have enough food to feed a man his size.
Especially one who’s nearly fainted from hunger.
But Ash pretends not to hear and makes for the front door, holding it open and waiting for me.
“We can eat anywhere, can’t we?” he asks, smiling when I nod.
I lock up the house and have Ash take my arm at the door.
His being such a gentleman helps take my mind off how I tell myself I should be feeling but don’t.
I should feel guilty, or worse. But that’s my Mom and Dad talking in my head all over again.
Ash takes all that away, and he makes me see that there’s a whole world out there. And with him in it, wanting to explore it with me?
Thinking about this house or my parents feel like I’ve wasted enough time already.
“Let’s go,” I excitedly squeal once we’re in his truck.
I feel tiny inside it, but Ash fills the driver’s side with his head touching the interior roof.
“Where do you wanna eat?” Ash asks casually after we’ve driven in silence for a while, suggesting the same burger joint my dad and I stopped at last night.
My stomach lurches a little at the memory of all that fattening food I ate.
“Maybe something healthier and with a decent bathroom,” I reply with a grimace, wondering if I shouldn’t have used the bathroom before I left.
“C’mon, Bridget.” Ash smiles across at me. “You don’t want some fried bacon, sausage, and egg in a roll?” he asks.
Hearing him say it with such… gusto, makes me rethink my image of a man like Ash.
I thought he’d be all lean chicken breast and salad.
“Well, I’m gonna get something from there,” he chuckles. “I eat a lot, Bridget, and don’t be sitting there thinking I’m one of those chicken and salad guys. I eat what I like when I like. But we can stop somewhere else and get you anything you want,” he explains, “I just got this hole to fill,” he adds, patting his non-existent belly with one hand as he drives.
You’ve got a hole to fill…? I know that feeling
I smile, almost sighing as I look at him.
Yep. He’s got me.
Hook, line, and sinker.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ash
One reason I used to hate time off, it broke the routine of fire station life. I mean, you can get called out to a job any minute, but chow time is chow time, and sleep time is sleep time anytime we’re not on a call.
That’s when I’m on duty.
When I’m left to my own devices, I kinda just forget about regular eating and sleep the more time I have to myself. Especially if something, or someone like Bridget here, proves more interesting. And she’s certainly grabbed more than my attention the past twenty-four hours.
A burger place isn’t where I really want to take her, but if I don’t get some food in my belly, I won’t be able to stand straight or drive safely, let alone put a baby in her belly.
I’m glad to see Bridget change her mind about my suggestion, though, especially once I tell her some more about the breakfast menu.
“I never knew they did breakfast,” she admits but looks a little embarrassed, being a local.
“We don’t eat out very often,” she explains, and I get it. I really do.
Seeing her house, her folks. Knowing all three of them each work, and like so many of us, they’re still trying to get by.
Being a firefighter doesn’t make me a billionaire, not by a long shot. But I don’t look at my paychecks, never have.
Just after twenty years and a couple of investments I made early, well, I’ve got more than enough tucked away to make sure Bridget and our kids can have a take-out burger anytime they want.
And maybe a little left over for the bigger stuff, like college.
We decide to eat inside, and while I wait for our order, Bridget excuses herself to powder her nose.
When our food does arrive, I make short work of it on my side, and Bridget seeing me half done by the time she comes back makes me feel a little impolite.
“Sorry,” I muffle, a mouth full of food. But she only shrugs a giggle, setting herself down.
Commenting that I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed to eat a lot.
“Must get expensive,” she muses, eyeing what I ordered for her. And I can see she’s tallying it up in her mind.
It must be that bank employee habit. Always counting. But I only shrug, giving a little grunt. Wondering if she minds the caveman table manners that go with the caveman courtship I’m giving her so far.
But to my credit, I chew with my mouth closed, and I’m not a noisy eater. I just don’t mess around. Food, mouth, done.