Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Stunned? It was me who was stunned. ‘It seemed to scamper off just fine.’ I open the door of my truck for her, and she jumps in, immediately grabbing one of my baseball caps and pulling out her ponytail. I take the cap from her hand and slip it on her head, slapping the brim. ‘Perfect.’
As I’m walking around the front of my truck, Darcy comes running across the gravel with a bag. ‘Alexandra, darling, your things.’
Alex lets her window down and rests her forearms on the edge, her chin on her arms. ‘I have things at Dad’s.’
‘You have rags at your father’s shack,’ Darcy retorts, throwing me a filthy glare.
‘It’s a cabin, Mum.’
‘Whatever, you have homework in here that needs doing.’
Oh, for fuck’s sake, give the kid a break, woman. My girl’s been holed up at that snooty boarding school for months being worked to the bone. ‘She’s just come home for the spring holidays, Darcy. She has weeks to do her homework.’
‘Of course you’d be irresponsible,’ she snipes as she follows me to the driver’s door, going below the belt as always.
But I grit my teeth and force a smile, not prepared to get into an argument in front of Alex. ‘Her homework will be done, and it’ll be done on time. She needs some time to recharge.’
Alex pulls herself back in the truck when I get in. ‘Can we go home and get changed?’ she asks me.
‘No, we have things to do.’
Darcy appears at the window. ‘This is your home.’
‘Throw her bag in the back.’ I thumb over my shoulder and relish the look of horror on Alex’s mother’s face.
‘It’s filthy.’
‘Then don’t.’ I pull away fast, making sure I kick up the dust, and I hear Darcy’s screeches of displeasure fade as we zoom away. Call me immature, call me mean, but that woman brings out the worst in me. Alex starts chuckling, and despite wanting to laugh with her, I put my daddy head on and give myself a telling-off before scolding my daughter. ‘Don’t laugh at your mother.’
‘Sorry.’ She kicks off her pink ballet flats and throws her feet onto the dashboard. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Town. Put your seatbelt on,’ I order, reaching across her body to grab it.
She puts up a lame fight. ‘I don’t need my seatbelt.’
I give her the look – the one she knows not to mess with. ‘Do it.’ Fearless. That’s my girl. Sometimes to a fault.
‘Okay, okay.’ On a dramatic sigh, she reaches for the belt. ‘What do we need in town?’
‘Supplies.’ I turn off the private road onto the main street. ‘We need to finish our bridge.’
‘You mean you haven’t finished it?’
‘You told me not to touch it until you’re home,’ I remind her. ‘So I haven’t.’
‘Good boy,’ she quips, earning a squeeze of her knee that makes her squeal and writhe in her seat. ‘Dad, stop!’
‘You stop with the wisecracks.’
‘Okay!’ she laughs, settling when I release her. ‘Hey, did you see the new arts-and-crafts shop in town? I saw it when Grandmother’s driver drove through town earlier.’
‘No.’ Why would I say no? And the questions in my brain start whirling again. Where has Hannah come from? Who is she?
‘Dad?’
I jump in my seat and look across the truck. Alex is looking at me with a little concern. ‘Sorry, I was thinking.’ Fool.
‘What about?’
‘How much I’ve missed your sassy pants.’ I grin when she smirks.
‘How long before you have to go back to London?’
‘I’m not going back.’
‘Huh?’
‘I quit my job.’ I peek at her out the corner of my eye, seeing astonishment and excitement emblazoned across her face. ‘I’m gonna build a few houses, I think. Wanna help me?’
‘Oh my God!’ she shrieks, making me flinch. ‘Like, for real?’
‘For real.’
‘Can I quit school?’
I chuckle to myself as I pull up in a parking bay outside the town shop. ‘No.’
‘Well, that’s not fair.’ Alex unclips her belt and dives through the seats into the back. ‘Do I have any Vans in your truck?’
‘Under my seat.’ I remember seeing the black-chequered sneakers a few weeks ago when I dropped my mobile phone down the side of my seat. I jump out and pull the back door open, finding Alex in a pile on the floor of my truck, her face squished against the back of my seat, her hand reaching underneath. Her mother would have a hernia.
‘I think I’ve got one,’ she says, presenting me with one Van. My eyes nearly pop out of my head when I see something dangling off the toe and Cabbage frowns as I lunge forward, snatching away the red lacy knickers and stuffing them in my pocket quickly. ‘What was that?’ she questions.
‘Nothing.’ I make myself useful and reach under the seat to find the other shoe.
‘Were they knickers?’
I laugh, and it sounds one hundred percent crazy. ‘Why would I have knickers in my truck?’