Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Frankly, I thought he was bullshitting me, because he kept dropping hints all the fucking time about me and Veronica hooking up. He was at the house when I got home, walking out of the garage with my circular saw again.
“Dude. You could at least ask,” I said, meeting him halfway down the driveway. I wondered if Veronica was home, and refused to let myself look up at her apartment.
“I was going to.” Xander shrugged. “You weren’t here. Kids get off okay?”
“Yeah.”
“When do they come back?”
“Week from tomorrow.”
“You alright?”
I shrugged.
“You should come out tonight. There’s a great band at The Broken Spoke.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“Come on, it’s Saturday night! Don’t be such an old man. We’ll drink a few beers, hear some good music, talk shit about people we don’t like, get in a bar fight.”
I grunted. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight, Grandpa,” he said, continuing down the driveway with my saw. “Be ready.”
I should have known he’d invite her too.
She was already sitting in the front seat of his SUV when I walked out to it, and even though I felt like turning around and going back inside the house, I couldn’t see a way to do it without looking like an asshole.
As soon as I got in the car and slammed the door, they both looked back at me—Xander with a gotcha grin, Veronica’s expression apologetic.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her tempting scarlet lips together. “I didn’t know you were coming, or I’d have gotten in the back seat.”
“It’s fine.” I gave Xander a dirty look.
“Are you sure you have enough room?” she asked. “I can trade with you. Or move my seat up.”
“I’m sure.”
“Have you heard from the kids?” she asked. “Did they make it out there okay?”
“Yes. They called me about an hour ago. They’re fine.”
“Oh, good.” She looked relieved. “I’ve been thinking about them all day.”
She really needed to stop doing and saying sweet things. I wasn’t sure I could handle wanting her any more than I already did. I turned my attention out the window and set about the task of ignoring her for the rest of the night.
But it was impossible.
Sitting across from her at a table at the back of The Broken Spoke, my leg was twitching beneath the red-checkered tablecloth, and it wasn’t in time to the music. The bar was housed in a repurposed barn on an old dairy farm a little ways outside of town, more popular with locals than tourists. It was packed tonight, and everyone else was enjoying the music, dancing to current favorites and old classics, drinking beers, shooting pool, talking and laughing and flirting while the place pulsed with the sweltering beat of a small-town Saturday night.
Since Xander had driven, I had allowed myself a couple more beers than usual, hoping the alcohol would numb what I was feeling.
It wasn’t working.
Moody and tense, I sat there scowling while everyone else had a good time. Familiar faces stopped by our table, slapped Xander on the back and asked about the progress on his bar, introduced themselves to Veronica, and nodded at me. Several people tried to engage me in conversation, but I remained broody and uncommunicative.
A couple times, friends asked if I was okay, and I snapped, “I’m fine.” Then I’d go back to drinking my beer and pretending not to see the woman across from me, my body on fire for her. She’d turned her chair to face the band, not that I blamed her. I wouldn’t want to look at my glowering mug either.
In contrast, her skin seemed to glow under the strings of party lights that formed a canopy above our heads. She wore a little red skirt with flowers on it that twirled out every time she danced, showing off the tiny black yoga shorts underneath. And she danced a lot—every time someone asked her. And she was the best dancer out there, spinning and stepping effortlessly, making even the clumsy, arthritic old guys look like Fred Astaire. With every song, she grew more flushed and beautiful, while I got more mad and sullen, slumping lower in my chair.
A song came on and she jumped to her feet. “Oh, I love this one! Anyone want to dance with me?” She looked hopefully around our table.
“I’m a little tired,” said Xander, lying through his teeth. “Austin, why don’t you go dance?”
“No.” I grabbed my beer and took a drink.
“Please, Austin?” Veronica looked at me hopefully, and my chest tightened.
“Go on.” Xander elbowed me. “She can even make you look good.”
“I don’t feel like it,” I snapped.
Her face fell, and she was about to sit down when a guy I didn’t recognize came over to the table and smiled at her. He was good-looking, maybe in his twenties, tall with blond hair and a wiry frame. I wanted to kick his ass immediately.