Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Still thinking that over, I open the grill, setting my big foil pan of corn on the cob on the barely warm surface. It’ll cook slower this way as the grill heats and be ready for the early lunch crews and the noontime ones too.
“Hey, Dani, you keeping the bossman extra late this morning?” Frogger calls out from Kathy’s back yard, humping and smacking the air in front of him. I’m instantly sorry for his girlfriend or whoever he fucks because the faces he’s making are an immediate ick, enough to turn anyone off. Maybe that’s why he goes at it from behind?
“He’ll be there when he gets there,” I answer shortly.
“We’ve got work to do, ya know.” Zeus is getting involved now, his face nearly taken up by a huge, teasing grin.
I throw a hand on my hip. “You two can’t do it yourselves?” When they shake their heads, I add, “I swear, I could order a truckful of dumbasses, get just one of you, and I would’ve gotten my money’s worth.” I know I sound bitchy, but if Kyle needs a minute, these two aren’t gonna stop him from taking it. Not on my watch.
“True story,” Wayne interjects, nodding solemnly. But he seems to catch on that something’s up—maybe with my mood, maybe with Kyle—but either way, he needs to get the guys out of the line of my fire. “Come on, dipshits. We know what needs to get done so let the lady do her own work too.”
Wayne throws a hand up at me, herding the two younger guys toward the back section of the yard and telling them, “Hardscape pavers will lay out here, offset in a diamond pattern.”
The guys groan but get to work, measuring out whatever they’re doing to Kathy’s yard.
I go back inside just in time to see Kyle helping Nessa bring my groceries in the front door. I expect her to be all ‘Sugarbear this’ and ‘Sugarbear that’, and teasing me about showing up to find me with company again. Instead, she shoots me a worried look and mouths, “What’s wrong?”
I mouth back, “Family stuff.”
If there’s one thing Nessa understands, it’s that family can be complex, so she instantly drops it, along with two more bags on my living room floor before she hurries back outside to get more.
Kyle picks them up, sets them in the kitchen for me, and then grabs the coffee. “Thank you. For everything.”
I wrap my arms around his waist. “You’re welcome. For everything. Go boss the guys around, dig a hole with your bare hands, or something else physical to get some of the stress out, and then I’ll bring lunch over later. Sound good?”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Yeah, but once I check on the guys, I need to pick up Peanut Butter at Maggie’s and take him home, so I might not be back by lunch. The guys will appreciate it, though.”
“Fuck that. I was willing to feed you. They were getting fringe benefits. If you won’t be back, they can eat their sandwiches after giving me shit this morning.” I smile, trying to lighten things for him, and he puts effort into returning it, but it’s half-hearted and weak at best. More seriously, I say, “I didn’t realize Peanut Butter was at Maggie’s.” I feel bad that I didn’t think about the dog even though we were gone all afternoon, evening, and night, but I’m not surprised Kyle did. He’s good like that, always thinking of everyone else.
“Yeah, I went back out there to check on the puppies and took him with me. He didn’t want to leave and I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do with dinner, so Maggie said he could stay. She’s fine with him being there as long as I need him to be, especially since he keeps the other dogs in check for her. But even at home, he’s got a dog door to access the yard, automatic water and food dispensers, and free reign of the house. Hell, he already thinks I’m his guest-slash-servant, so a night getting to sleep in the middle of the bed would be a sweet deal to him. But he probably had a blast at Maggie’s even if he had to sleep on a dog bed on the floor.”
“How’re the puppies doing?” I ask, trying to keep things on the positive tip.
“Whiskey took them all. They’re nursing alongside her own pups,” he says, and I know he’s happy about that, but his face is blank as he reports on Peanut Butter, Whiskey, and the puppies.
“Good.” I’m about to say more, though I don’t know what to say, but Nessa kicks at the front screen.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got the rest of them. I don’t need no help,” she grunts, her arms loaded down with about half her bodyweight in bags.