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)
Though, that might’ve been a trick of the light against her face that was already blotchy due to all the crying.
Whatever the reason, I ignored it and flipped the console up for her to move over a little easier.
“I have to stop by my place and get Gertie,” I said. “I dropped him off at home during lunch so I could come back for you, and he wouldn’t have to sit in the hot truck.”
She nodded her head.
“Okay.”
Then she crawled off my lap, very carefully I might add, giving me an unencumbered view of her ass with those tight jeans stretched across it as she moved to the passenger’s seat.
The moment she was in her seat, I looked away before she caught me and put the truck into drive.
“Do you want something to eat?”
Her sniffle broke my heart. “No, thank you.”
I drove in silence to my place, looking over at her periodically to make sure that she was okay.
Each time I did, she would turn her face up to me, giving me her eyes, and I felt some sort of pull that was practically begging me to touch her in some way.
I managed to hold back the urge to pull her hand into mine, but only just barely.
By the time we pulled into my driveway, I was a fucking mess of pent up aggression.
Before I got out, though, she halted my movement.
“Evander?” she whispered.
I looked at her. “Yeah?”
“I don’t want to go home.”
I looked at her, really looked at her, and gave her what she wanted.
“Your chickens fed? The dog?”
She nodded. “Fed everything before I left. They should be good until at least tomorrow morning.”
I got out of the truck and walked around to her side, opening the door for her.
She slid out, then stared at my yard.
“You know,” she said, looking at all the junk. “This really pisses me off. I had no clue that all this junk wasn’t yours. Otherwise I would’ve done something about this.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Nothing you could’ve done. The town’s set on not liking me. Hell, they barely tolerate the rest of ‘Hail Raisers,’ either.”
She started up the front walk, having to swerve off of it to miss a huge anvil that someone had dumped right in the middle of my walkway, and kept walking.
I pulled my keys out of my pocket and then stepped to the side as I opened the door to allow Gertie to come out.
He walked straight to his usual spot and did his business before following us right back inside.
Kennedy watched this all with a small smile on her face, and then walked into the room.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered the moment she stepped inside.
I looked at it from her point of view.
“Amazing, really,” she continued. “The chandelier doesn’t really seem like your style, though.”
I grinned. “I like old stuff. When I was building this house, I went to a few antique stores and old barn sales to make sure that I got authentic stuff. The wood from the house came from the old barn that used to reside right at the top of my driveway. That’s this,” I said referring to the wall.
She touched the wall where the faded red paint from over a hundred years of painting came from, and hummed.
“I watch a lot of HGTV. Jo and Chip would’ve gone bonkers over this.”
I snorted.
“They might have, yes.”
I touched the saw marks from the blade that was used to cut the piece of cedar, then showed her. “This is some of the best wood that you’ll ever find,” I told her. “Do you see this?” I indicated the marks, and she nodded. “Saw blade marks. And this,” I pointed to a knot. “I fucking love little details like this.”
She wandered around the room, and I headed to the bedroom. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to go shower and change.”
She made some noncommittal sound, and I walked down the hall that led to my bedroom, then started stripping. My boots were the first thing to get kicked off, followed by the jeans, my underwear, and finally my shirt.
The moment I walked into my bathroom, I flipped on the faucets for the shower…and nothing.
Not a single drip of water.
I narrowed my eyes.
Then a stray thought occurred to me.
I’d seen the water meter guy today when I’d been repossessing his car.
He wouldn’t…would he?
I growled and walked to the wall where my towel hung, then slung it around my hips as I stalked out of my bedroom and down the hallway.
“Hey, does the water work in the sink?” I called out, stopping in the middle of the living room.
I heard something clink—the faucets being turned—and then a muttered, “No.”
I walked back to my room and bent over, fishing my phone out of my pocket.
The moment I had it in my hand, I searched through my contacts for the water company, and pressed ‘Go.’