Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Soon, the table is back to chatting away. Cole continues to talk and have fun, too, though I can tell that his mind is crowded with conflicting views about everything. It’s evident every time he tries to laugh at something someone says. His laughter dies too fast. There is a clear and constant edge in his eyes. The misgivings he shared with me yesterday while we were out with his dog are still fresh on my mind.
Maybe I should have listened to him more.
I find myself struck with sympathy for him.
The very next instant, I picture Cole standing on a stage in the bright spotlights, the whole town of Spruce there to watch, while he wears nothing but a pair of tight, crotch-hugging Speedos.
I see his confidence return.
I’m in the front row.
He grins down at me as if from the top of a mountain, smirks, then cups his crotch with a hand. “You like what you see, Noah?” he asks me. “Wanna put in a bid on me?”
Then the real Cole glances at me, shattering the fantasy.
He meets my eyes.
I panic and look away.
“My stars, Nadine, really,” says Dean as he leans over the table and brings his voice down so no one else hears, “what possessed you to invite that mad and troubled boy as our third bachelor?”
“Oh, he isn’t that bad,” she says.
“You can’t possibly think a guy like that would be onboard for wearing swimsuits and formalwear and doing a talent show. He was barely able to handle a simple photo shoot.”
“You’d be surprised what I can talk people into.”
“Nadine, he was drunk today. Drunk and foul and … and, to be frank, uncomely.”
I glance at Cole again. He’s listening to another one of Mindy’s stories about her nightmare kids. I watch him laugh, face lighting up, a sparkle of joy in his eyes.
He really is so beautiful.
How can someone so beautiful, inside and out, actually like a person as awkward, reclusive, and unappealing as me? I’m an odd-faced Jiggle-Wiggle. He’s a hidden son of Apollo, a demigod hidden away in a small Texas town, out of sight from the other jealous gods and goddesses that would bring him harm.
Everything in the universe, if thought out enough, is logical.
Like math. Like history and its indubitably tangled thread of cause and effect that stretches to the birth of all things. Like the stars and the speed of light and why we can’t see black holes.
But Cole’s attraction to me …?
That makes no sense at all.
“He’s had a tough time, Dean, a real tough time,” says Nadine with overflowing sympathy. “Please go easy on him, will you?”
“Easy? Nadine …”
“This whole thing just sort of fell together in the past forty-eight hours or so. I needed some men in a pinch. I already had you and Cole in mind, and it just so happened I ran into Trey at church yesterday morning, and he was tellin’ me about the Myers’ whole situation, how that poor Anthony’s been havin’ nothin’ but stroke after stroke of bad luck. Couldn’t make it in vet school. Cost his parents so much money and time. Then decided to enlist, but got injured in boot camp and sent right home. Then their dog died.” She lets out a sigh and stabs a buttered broccoli floret with her fork. “Trey and I think this just might be the kind of thing a boy like Anthony needs to get back on his feet.”
Dean shakes his head. “I’m not sure I agree, Nadine.”
“Look, I’m not bein’ obtuse here, I know just as well as any that Anthony can be … a bit much. But it’s been my philosophy that everyone deserves a second chance, and it has never steered me wrong. By the way, aren’t these broccolis to die for?” She stabs another one and brings it to her lips. “I think it’s the garlic butter or somethin’. De-lish.”
Another bite of steak finds its way to my lips, then doesn’t quite make it past, as I continue to stare at Cole and obsess, trying to figure him out, trying to hear the words he said to me yesterday all over again. I’m determined to analyze them until they make sense to me. Until I can understand what he sees.
What he feels.
I press the bite of meat to my lips as I stare at him, frustrated.
“Didn’t he get into a fistfight with your son?” asks Dean.
Nadine scrunches up her face. “Y’mean that tiny little nothin’ tiff at the movie theater? With my sweet Jimmy? That was ages ago, Dean, nearly three or four summers ago. Goodness, I cannot believe you still remember that.”
“I remember everything,” he says. “That boy needs therapy or Jesus, not a pageant.”
“Just water under the bridge. And for the record, he is gettin’ Jesus,” she points out with a wiggle of her fork. “He goes to church every Sunday, doesn’t miss a single one. That’s why Reverend Trey had his eye on him. Hey.” She reaches across the table and pats Dean’s hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll see in the end, it’s for the best. Just be patient and try to … well … keep your big sweet heart open like it always is, okay?”