Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Don’t be cranky. We love you exactly as you are.” Setting aside his towel, Sam reached down to pat my shoulder. “And I need your town crier rep to help me with this memorial and ensure people turn out. I’m considering holding it at the community center rather than a church to make it more about the community than a formal funeral.”
“What does Worth think?” I asked, thinking of my conversation with Cal about what Worth needed. His insights and compassion inspired me to try harder with Worth and consider what might truly help versus what I thought Worth could benefit from.
“No clue.” Dropping his hand, Sam huffed, unusually frustrated. “He texted a thumbs-up emoji to the initial idea, but nothing other than random likes on silly memes since then.”
“Are you going to be okay if he doesn’t come?” I had to agree with Cal that the chances of Worth no-showing were high. If he wasn’t talking, the idea of coming back to Safe Harbor was hardly going to be more palatable.
“Of course.” Sam nodded too crisply. “I’m doing this for Mrs. Stapleton, not Worth specifically.”
“Not a thing to do with your old crush—”
“I’m well over thirty, a business person, community leader, and homeowner. I don’t do crushes.” Sam bristled like an old broom, blowing his dusty mood in my direction.
“Well then.” I gave him the same pointed look he’d given me earlier. “I’ll keep texting Worth too. Got to keep reaching, even if he can’t reach back.”
“Exactly.” Shoulders slumping, Sam leaned against the counter. “And that’s all I’m trying to do. Sorry for getting cranky on you.”
“It’s going around. You’re all right.” I offered him a quick fist bump. “I better get to class.”
“And we better see you at trivia night this week. Bring Cal.”
“So you all can interrogate him?” That sounded like utter misery for Cal and me both. I didn’t need Cal catching wind of me having a…something. Not a crush. But more than friendly interest. And heck, even friendly interest might be enough to make Cal run.
“I was thinking so he could contribute,” Sam said patiently. “We’ve got a top-three streak to defend. But if questioning him is likely to yield tasty gossip…”
“It’s not.” I groaned. “Lord, why do I love this town so much?”
“Because we’ve always got your back? And usually, you’re first with the gossip. You’re only having an issue because you’re the subject.”
“Possibly.” Sighing, I headed for the door as Sam waved me away.
“Go on. Go forth and educate.”
I tried to focus on my afternoon class and meeting, and as I exited my last meeting of the day, my phone buzzed with a text from Cal. My pulse galloped.
You out of class? I need a favor.
I quickly typed a reply.
Just finished for the day. Happy to help.
I need a ride to the clinic to get my stitches out. I was planning to ask Knox, but he’s waiting on a plumber at another job site. I could walk, but I figured I’d ask.
I responded before the stubborn man could start walking.
I’ll be there in ten. We can pick up a pizza for dinner after.
Cal’s reply made me smile.
Sounds good.
What truly sounded good was Cal proactively asking me for help. With a little luck, maybe he’d ask for kissing next. Or perhaps I’d get out of my own way, do the kissing my own damn self.
Chapter Eighteen
Cal
“Do you have everything you need?” Holden asked as we pulled up to the Stapleton house on a sunny, warm morning the day after I got my stitches removed.
“Yep,” I lied. Or rather, I ignored the everything in Holden’s question. I had my food in the borrowed lunch box from Holden, a large water bottle from my stack of gear now residing in Holden’s garage, my phone, and other essentials, and I’d already suffered a handful of reminders from Holden about not overdoing it simply because my stitches were out. What I didn’t have was…heck. If I knew how to describe it, I’d be in a better position to ask for it. A kink repeat? A make-out session? A goodbye kiss or hug, as silly as that sounded? An excuse to touch Holden?
I had no idea how it was possible to be so comfortable and so restless simultaneously. In a little over a week, we’d developed routines for everything from the morning drop-off to dinner to pre-bed TV watching. And somewhere in there was room for…more. But more was a damn frightening thought because if I got any more settled into the present situation, I might drift off on a warm cloud, forget my mission, forget that I didn’t do coziness, relationships, and routines dependent on other people. Instead, I clung to my restlessness, my inability to come right out and ask Holden for what I wanted, even knowing full well he’d grant any request.