Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Vaguely. We’re old, man, only getting older.” Yeah, and when I tell him what happened, it’s only going to make me feel my age, too.
“He brought a girl home. She left the same day?” I’m hoping that rings a bell. “I may have had something to do with the reason she left.” I don’t elaborate, waiting to see what he says next.
“Ah, fuck, did you say something to piss them off? That’s not like you, Trace.” I shake my head. He’s right.
“Nah, messed up in a different way. Wes’s girlfriend at the time, well, shit, I can’t even say I didn’t have a hand in it.” Cooper’s eyes narrow. “Don’t give me that shit. It was consensual. A kiss, and she ran off before I could do or say anything else. Wes went back to school, she broke up with him, and that was the end of Josie Preston.” He doesn’t need to know that a kiss along with my cock gliding along her slit got her off or every so often, a scent will trigger the kiss we shared, and it’s only amplified my need since she’s stepped foot back into our small town.
“Shit, man. Wes know about this?” Cooper asks, more worried about my boy, who he’s been around since birth.
“He does not, and I’m not telling him either, which means neither are you. When the time comes that he needs to know, he will. Which is soon because Josie Preston is back in town, bought the old Miller house in the Whispering Pines subdivision, and there’s no way I’m staying away from her.” Cooper can see the determination written on my face.
“Yeah, you’re a fucking goner for her. This is going to be fun to watch. Trace Gaines finally meets someone who makes him want to settle down. You can try and deny you don’t, but you’ve got it bad, brother, so bad. I can’t wait to tell Gia all about this.” He claps his hand on my back, laughter coating his words.
“How about we don’t tell Gia just yet? Josie has no idea we’re practically neighbors. I’m going to keep it like that for a bit longer. The last time she was in my presence, she ran away. I’m not above chasing her if it comes to it, but easing her in might be better.” She could very well be a skittish colt when she realizes everything. Thankfully, the backup beepers save me from going into more detail. Love my friend and his wife, but this is on a need-to-know basis, and he doesn’t need to know shit.
“Alright, I won’t tell Gia, but she’ll figure it out sooner or later. Then she’ll be pissed. Good luck. You’re going to need it.” Cooper heads back inside. I make my way to the flatbed truck, ready to get this show on the road. I’ve got a woman to check on. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get in and out unnoticed. Blue Valley is a small town, her subdivision smaller, so there’s no doubt in my mind tongues will wag, and I’ll be the star of their show.
9
JOSIE
I never went back to sleep. I’m running on caffeine and freaking chaos. Instead of hitting my bed after working for six or seven hours, I decided to be even more of an idiot and unpack the kitchen. When Mom was here, she did the basics—cups, utensils, pots and pans. The rest was up to me. I had no idea where I wanted certain things placed, rather choosing to live in the kitchen more before making a game plan. Well, that idea was shot to shit. Groceries in the house meant it was time to rinse the fruits and vegetables, and containers were a necessity along with a strainer. A domino effect pursued, another idiot moment with the way this week is starting off.
In the background I have country music playing, reminiscent of the eighties. The slow croon of a man singing has me slowly swaying to the music as I move from box to box, breaking them down as I go, putting them in a pile by the front door to carry out to the recycling bin. I’d usually offer them up for free on a social media site, but I’d rather not do that in an area I’m new in. Who knows what can of worms that could open? Even meeting in a parking lot probably wouldn’t be the smartest idea, much to my dismay since I went to the liquor store, grocery stores, and some I even bought. These will be recycled.
“Finally.” I heave a heavy box up on the peninsula in the kitchen where the stove is, backless for a seamless appearance. The countertops aren’t my first choice; the same goes for the cabinets. Years of wear and tear covered up with what seems to be five layers of paint. At least it’s white on white. That’s the good news. The bad news is I’ll eventually need to gut it and start over. Another day, another dollar, hopefully a whole lot longer down the road. Especially since I’ve now got the number to a tree trimming company after my morning call with my mother, mentioning if Dad wouldn’t mind bringing his pole saw over with his ladder this weekend to trim a limb. Neither of them were having it, so I’ve got a number to call, except I’m still sure I could do it on my own. I’ll probably attempt it, at least at first. It’ll be a ‘what they don’t know won’t hurt them’ scenario, and hopefully, it will go smoothly. I heft out the vintage Pyrex that was handed down to me from my grandma. She’s now living in an assisted living facility, which I need to visit soon. A lump forms in the back of my throat. The woman I once spent every moment I could with is no longer the same. She’s got a disease with no cure, which has taken the very love she once had for life and turned her into a woman who needs to have around-the-clock care. Fucking dementia. At first, it was a few things here or there—forgetting to turn off the stove, walking out of the house without closing the door. Then a neighbor called. Things took a drastic change a couple of years ago, when she was wondering the streets late at night in her robe and had no idea what was going on when we all made the short drive to her then house. Mom and Dad made the decision to move her in with them until every test was done, telling Mom what she was already aware of. Grandma is one of many siblings in her family diagnosed with dementia. For three years, she’s been slowly deteriorating, yet she was only recently moved into a facility, eating away at each of us that we knew the capacity grandma was in, it would be too hard for us to give her the care she needs and deserves. So, to some, the items I have in my house may seem old and could easily be bought new—a lot of the Pyrex bowls, Tupperware, and a few other things, like the multi-colored glasses, awesome in design and color. There’s more scattered throughout my house or will be once I finish unpacking. I smile, watching as each piece is unwrapped from the bubble wrap, happy to see that it made it through the move. I stack each one together with a lid, nestling inside each other to save space on the counter until I really manage a solid look through of where in the kitchen cabinets I’ll be placing them. Speaking of, I probably should take a better look at where things currently are and how I’m going to have everything set up to make it easier when I work in the kitchen.