Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 80176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Of course, he couldn’t!
I was paying so much attention to my non-existent trailer hitch that I didn’t even hear him coming.
And by the time that I did hear him coming, he was in the same damn aisle as me, barreling down on me.
But, by some miracle from above, an elderly woman stopped him, asking him what he thought of the trailer ball that she was holding in her hand, and whether he thought that it would fit her husband’s boat or not.
When Evander made some rumbled reply, his eyes never leaving me, I realized that he was mad for some reason.
Why was he mad?
Was it due to me interrupting his conversation? Was it because he didn’t want to bring me a bale of hay?
Whatever his reason, I decided that now was the time to leave and darted out of the end of the aisle, and all but ran to the front of the store.
However, when I got to the front it was to find not one, but eight other people in line, and I realized that I wouldn’t be getting out of here any time soon.
I bit my lip as I weighed my options.
Stand in line, check out and hope that he didn’t talk to me, or hide again. I was hoping that he’d leave before I found my way out of the aisles.
The question was answered moments later when I heard him say something, causing me to turn.
His eyes were once again on me, but I could tell that he was running out of patience.
When he rudely dismissed the person, this time a young woman who was in her twenties with breasts the size of cantaloupes, I realized that he really was set on talking to me.
I bit my lip, hunched down and started to hide behind the giant chicken, remembering what I noticed earlier about the legs, and took off again, right back to the trailer hitches by way of moving around the entire back of the store.
Past the dog food, the horse hoof trimmers and the generators.
When I arrived back at my original starting point, I took a look around and moved outside, thinking that would be perfect.
What I didn’t think was that the door would be locked, causing me to smash not only my face, but the box I was carrying, into the glass.
“Shit!” I hissed, dropping down to the ground and immediately opening the box.
I’d meant to just take a peek, but the moment that the box opened, all fucking six of my new little chicks took that as their cue to jump out.
“No!” I squeaked, catching the first three very easily and placing them carefully back into the box.
The last few, however, proved to be devious little devils.
“Come here,” I whispered, reaching behind one of the hitches for the cutest little chick I’d ever seen, only for it to dart away from my hand like I was the evilest thing on her little planet.
But I caught her when she thought she could fit through the end of one of the trailer hitches.
When she went to turn around and come back, she ran straight into my hand and I put her directly into the box.
When I came up to look for the other one, it was to find a pair of dusty, grime covered cowboy boots, within inches of my hands, firmly planted on the floor.
When I looked up, I knew what I’d find.
The man who was practically chasing me around Tractor Supply. Though, I had to admit, a lot of the reason he was doing that was because I was the one hiding.
But whatever.
I swallowed, went back on my knees, and looked at him.
He was holding my chickens.
And let me just tell you something.
A big, sexy man like Evander—holding tiny, fluffy baby chickens—was enough to cause every nerve ending in my body to start firing.
He had them cradled in his palm, his large fist curled protectively around the little terrors, and he was staring at me with a mixture of exasperation and humor tinting his features.
“You are incredibly annoying.”
I winced.
“Here,” he held the chicks out to me.
I took them and carefully placed it back into my box, then stood up with my spine stiff and straight.
“I don’t know where you live, but I’ll bring the bale by tomorrow around noon.”
I nodded, finding it hard to swallow.
“Bye.”
It wasn’t until he was all the way across the store, which I could see because he was a head and shoulders taller than every single person he walked past, and out the door, that I realized that I hadn’t told him where I lived.
I should’ve known, though, that he’d figure it out.
What I didn’t want to admit, however, was that I was extremely embarrassed that he called me ‘incredibly annoying.’ I hoped he didn’t find out where I lived, because then he would know that I was a whole lot closer than he realized.