Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Once back inside, I walk straight to my air mattress and sprawl out. The thing dips wildly in the middle, the sides go up, and I’m almost sure my spine touches the floor. I ignore the twinge of pain shooting up from my backbone and get out my phone. It only takes a few minutes of browsing before I get three different companies that do home renovations. I call every single one and leave a message since it’s after five and the offices are now closed.
With that done, I flick to the first furniture website that a search of ‘couch, Amarillo,’ brings up and order an entire household’s worth of furniture—like a couch, loveseat, armchair, beds, dressers, and a kitchen table. Another search brings me to a big box department home store, and I order a toilet, plumbing equipment, pipes, a bathroom sink, a new tub, showerheads, faucets, drywall, and yes, I do include a kitchen sink because I need one after all.
Just for good measure, I also call a fencing company that actually does answer, and they promise to come by the next day to give me a quote. Then, I phone an underground pool company to get the ball rolling. And a landscaper as well. The grass in both the back and front yard is an absolute disaster.
I can’t wait to see Rea’s face when all those trucks start pulling up and work gets underway, making it dang clear I’m not about to leave Amarillo anytime soon. This is me digging in my heels. This is me pushing back.
She wanted war? She’s got a war now.
Oh. And that pool company? They aren’t just coming for me. I’m going to offer Rea one as well. I noticed her yard is big and open and is lacking one. She probably wants one. She always did love to swim, and anyone who lives in this state without a pool is bat shit crazy.
I know wars aren’t supposed to be about doing something extreme, expensive, and nice for another person, but I’m going to make the offer and let Rea decide. I’m not forcing it on her. She wanted a fence? I’ll pay for that too. I also noticed her kitchen stove is quite outdated, so I’m going to get her a gift card as a nice promotion bonus so she can shop for a new matching set.
That’s right. I don’t believe in fighting dirty unless it’s between the sheets, and even then, I hope it’s more dirty and less fighting. Though not too dirty because although I’m not a vanilla kind of guy, I’m not exactly into chains and whips either. Maybe just a small whip…kidding. Sort of, I think. Anyway, what I’m doing here is pushing back with one of the only types of warfare I know how to use effectively.
The good old killin’ ‘er with kindness type of battle.
CHAPTER 11
Rea
Well, I went to work and got my promotion. The day went on as always since it won’t come into effect until the beginning of next week. Notably absent was one Kayden Deroy, thank the stars, planets, existing and unknown galaxies, and any aliens out there for that. It was almost a typical day at the office.
But apparently, my luck couldn’t continue.
As soon as I get home, I find an envelope taped to the door, and there’s a name in the corner that I barely bother to read. I’m sweating mega bullets, thinking Kayden did something to get back at me for those pizzas because he had to have known it was me. Goodness sakes, I laughed way too hard last night watching the whole thing from beside the window so he couldn’t see me. His face. His face was priceless when he found out how many pizzas and what kind. That one’s going down in the annals of awesome revenge pranks.
I have a few more I’m considering. Like sitting down and finding every single free catalog and signing Kayden up for all of them. And not just in Texas, either. From all over the States. Maybe even from all over the world. Another one I’m considering is farting in a jar and setting it on his doorstep, and when he opens it, because who wouldn’t open an empty, suspicious-looking jar, he’d be in for a big surprise. Sadie actually suggested that one when I texted her about the pizzas. I’m not entirely sure how to capture one’s farts in a jar or if they’d linger, but the idea is altogether tempting. Sadie had a few other suggestions too. Like find someone with a dog and scoop up all the poo and present it in a gift-wrapped box, get creative with a carton of eggs, and use those clear moving plastic wrap stuff to wrap the entire house, including the front door. Sadie really was too good at the terror of pranks.