Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
She went into the house and shut the door, leaving me fuming in the driveway.
What the fuck was I doing? I didn’t want to have that argument either. I jumped into my car, threw it into reverse, and took off so fast my tires squealed.
The truth was, I wasn’t mad at Naomi, I was mad at myself. I’d hurt someone that didn’t deserve it, all because I didn’t trust myself to keep my goddamn pants zipped.
If it hadn’t been a work night, I might have found a dive bar and gotten good and drunk, maybe gone home with a hot cocktail waitress and gotten rid of this fucking pent-up aggression, but since I had to be at the station at seven a.m., I hit the drive-thru and went home alone.
I arrived at work the next morning by six forty-five, swapping places with the guy who had my position on the previous shift. Since I hadn’t slept all that well, I was tired and crankier than usual during all the chores we had to get done every morning—put out our turnout gear, check the radios and air packs, bring the apparatus outside, run the pump and emergency lighting, inventory each compartment for proper gear and equipment.
After that, it was on to station housekeeping—cleaning the bathroom, emptying the trash, vacuuming the carpets, mopping the floors, sweeping out the bay, landscaping. I never minded the work, especially since I’d much rather clean than cook. And since the rest of the guys agreed I was the worst at making the evening meal, I was often allowed to trade my kitchen duties for other tasks.
After lunch we had a meeting with the Lieutenant and then some medical training, but eventually I was able to hit the gym for a workout. It wasn’t anything big or fancy, but it was clean and functional, and there was enough equipment to punish myself sufficiently, or at least take my mind off the gorgeous girl next door.
Justin joined me, which was fine, although I wasn’t in the mood to talk. My brother-in-law had known me long enough to read the signs, but when I was done on the treadmill, he got off the machine he’d been on and came over.
“You okay?” he asked.
I shrugged, walking slowly on the belt to cool off. “Fine.”
“You haven’t said a word all day.”
“I’m tired, I guess.”
“How was your weekend with the girls?”
“Good.” My mood lifted a little at the thought of them. “Thanks again for helping with the move. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. You get all unpacked?”
I made a face. “Fuck no. I spent yesterday sweating my ass off at the pool and telling them five hundred times that no, we can’t get a cat.”
Justin laughed. “You know you’re going to get them a cat. Give it up.”
“And who’s going to feed it while I’m here?” I stopped the belt completely and got off.
“Your neighbor. What’s her name again?”
“Winnie.”
“Right. Like the Pooh.”
I thought about her bright, happy smile and girlish laugh and felt like shit again. “I don’t think Winnie is all that anxious to do me any favors.”
“Why not?”
Exhaling, I wiped my face with a towel. “I said something shitty to her yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m an asshole.” I tossed the towel in a laundry basket, then picked the whole thing up.
“True,” Justin said, following me to the laundry room. “But what was it you said?”
I dumped the dirty towels into the washing machine and added soap. “I made a remark about not being interested in her.”
“Why the hell would you say that?”
I turned the dial on the old machine and pulled the knob. “Because I am interested in her. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
I frowned. “I’m interested in doing things to her I shouldn’t, because she’s so fucking young it should be illegal.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Oh.” He seemed relieved. “That’s not that young.”
I turned around and leaned back against the machine, folding my arms over my sweat-soaked chest. “Have you talked to any twenty-two-year-olds lately?”
Justin, who was thirty-seven, shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”
“They’re young, dude. She was in fucking kindergarten when I graduated high school.”
He laughed. “Hey, I’m five years older than Bree.”
“That’s not as bad. And Bree was like thirty when you guys met. This girl was drinking a fucking Frosty when I went over there Saturday night.”
“You went over there Saturday night?”
“Just to her patio. I was sitting on mine having a beer when she came out to hers, and I wanted to apologize for something that happened earlier at Chip’s party.”
“What was she doing at Chip’s party?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Turns out she’s his cousin.”
He laughed. “Small towns, man. So what happened there you had to apologize for?”
I told him about the incident in her bedroom, and he laughed so hard he wheezed. “That’s fucking amazing. Jesus, how did you hold it together?”