Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Smiling, I squeezed him tight, because despite his failing memory, he was still my daddy. Somewhere deep down inside, his love for me burned bright, even if he couldn’t quite express it the normal way any longer.
The lawn mower roared as Cooper pushed it across the yard, working his way carefully around Mom’s rosebushes. I caught another glimpse of him through the window and pulled away from Dad quickly—no way I wanted to be hugging my father while I perved on the guy outside.
Too creepy, even for a creeper like myself.
• • •
“Do you still have that open apartment?” Carrie asked half an hour later, leaning back to prop her feet up on the porch railing. I refilled my glass of wine, settling deeper into the same swing we’d played on during a thousand childhood sleepovers. It needed a coat of paint.
“Yeah, but I’ve got someone interested. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m thinking of moving in,” she said seriously. I raised my brows.
“You own a house,” I reminded her gently.
“But I don’t have him,” she said, eyes darting toward Cooper, who was using the Weedwacker to edge the sidewalks. He caught me looking, giving a knowing quirk of his lips. An hour earlier this would’ve embarrassed the hell out of me, but Carrie and I’d nearly put the second bottle to bed. Reality had fuzzed out nicely.
“Well, we’ll see how it plays out,” I reminded her, not wanting to jinx it. “Just because he does a good job today doesn’t mean he’ll be trustworthy in the long run. He hangs out with the motorcycle club, you know. Not only that, he’s dating Talia Jackson. I’m not his type.”
The words fell between us, and Carrie gave an exaggerated shiver.
“That girl is such a heinous little bitch.”
“Thanks for pointing that out. I hadn’t noticed. Hell, I’d planned on inviting her over for drinks with us next Sunday.”
She smacked me, and the whole swing swayed.
“Careful! You nearly knocked over my wine,” I accused.
“I brought over three bottles,” she pointed out. “The only reason you aren’t sitting here drinking water is me, so be nice.”
We glared at each other, and for a good thirty seconds I managed to hold my angry face. Carrie broke first, and then we were both giggling, just like in high school.
“Cheers,” she said, lifting her glass.
“Cheers,” I replied. “I missed this. When I was living in Seattle, I mean. I had lots of friends there, but no one like you.”
Carrie threw her arm over my shoulder, giving me a hug. Then she reached down and lifted the bottle, emptying the last few drops into my glass.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “I know things haven’t gone like you planned, but I still think you belong here in Hallies Falls.”
I rolled my eyes.
Whatever.
Then I chugged the rest of my glass, because it really wasn’t very good wine—not like what Brandon and I used to drink together. Cooper passed in front of us, flashing me a quick smile.
“I’m in heat,” Carrie moaned.
“You’re married.”
“Oh, get over yourself—it’s not like he’s real.”
I frowned at her, confused. “Of course he’s real. He just pushed the lawn mower right by us.”
Carrie rolled her eyes.
“No, I mean nothing will happen with him,” she said. “I’m married, and you aren’t his type. That makes him safe fantasy material.”
“I could be his type,” I insisted.
“You’re beautiful,” she said. “You’ve got that sexy, curvy body and retro style from hell, which kicks ass. But if Cooper’s into Talia Jackson, he’s not gonna be into you. Even without the age thing, this guy likes girls without curves. Talia’s like a wire hanger with breasts. Really little ones. She’s a tacky street racer and you’re a classic muscle car. Just two different things, you know?”
Sighing, I slumped back in the swing, realizing she was right. I’d known it already, but somehow after the third glass of wine I’d been feeling more optimistic. But for better or worse, Carrie and I shared more than our love of fast cars. We had a deal—forged in the pain and humiliation of junior high—to always tell each other the truth, no matter how hard.
“Hey, it’s not a bad thing,” she said, nudging my shoulder. “Not like the guy’s a serious prospect anyway. Doesn’t seem to have a real job, mows lawns for his rent, and hangs out with a motorcycle gang. You can’t tell me you were picking out china patterns in your head, were you?”
“No, but I wouldn’t mind getting laid.”
“So let’s hit a club in Ellensburg this weekend,” she said. “Two can play this game, you know—pick up some cute college boy, teach him a thing or two. I swear, his future wife will thank you.”
I groaned.
“One time . . .”
Carrie burst out laughing. “Nothing ever dies in this town, babe. You’re a cougar on the prowl and we all know it! Why just the other day I warned a young man to get off the street before you caught him.”