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)
“I will. First, I’m going to finish getting dressed. There’s something weird about being half-naked while on the phone with your dad.” Eternally gagging thinking about it, I set the phone on a shelf and slide a hanger over to find a certain tank top, one that is loose enough to let the air flow through. The sun is shining brightly in the sky, and the temperature is only getting higher.
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that, too. I’ll call you when we leave the house Sunday, and don’t think about catering to us. We’ll bring food. Love you, honey.” I’m finally going to get a reprieve, as long as she doesn’t bring up a new conversation that is. A Southerner really does have a hard time getting off the phone.
“Love you, too.” I slide my shirt over my head and am ending the call with Mom when I see I received a text from Trace while on the phone.
Trace: Should be all good. Be safe. See you later today.
I wrestle with the idea to respond.
Should I?
Shouldn’t I?
The decision is made for me when my phone rings in my hand, the screen lighting up with Dad’s name, and I’m hitting the button to answer while heading out of my bedroom. It’s time to get my day started, especially since I have something to look forward to later today.
18
TRACE
“You’ve got to be motherfucking kidding me. I’m going to take my hand to her bare ass, and that’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” Last night, I showed up at her place with dinner, we ate on the couch, watched television for a few hours, then made out like we were teenagers, getting hot and heavy. I put an end to it before either of us wanted to. A decision my cock took issue with the whole way home until I was in the shower, spraying my cum on the tile floor, and still it wasn’t enough.
I pull into her driveway, eyes glued to the woman who is trying to kill me on a daily basis. It doesn’t matter what she’s doing, what she’s wearing. A smile, a look, a touch. Today, though, is entirely different. Josie’s is up on a ladder, on the step closest to the top, straddling it between her legs, clenching the metal to her calves while reaching above her head. I’m throwing my truck in Park. Pissed as fuck and worried out of my damn skull is the only way to describe what I’m currently feeling. I’m out of my truck, on a mission. Wringing her neck comes to mind, so does kissing her with everything I’ve got. I get she’s an independent woman, ready to take the world by storm, but this? It’s a damn death wish. No one is at her place, watching over her, not even the nosy-ass neighbors, and that’s probably because they’re inside, phones pressed to their chests, ready to call me or an ambulance.
A branch Josie was cutting with loppers falls down. She squats out of the way, so it doesn’t take it down with her, oblivious to me marching toward her. I stay quiet in order not to scare her when damn the woman needs a healthy dose of fear put into her body. I guess the silver lining is that she doesn’t hold a chainsaw in her hands. I’d lose my cool if that were the case. Josie does a little dance when I catch the glance she gives the window, a window I know all too well. I’ve been given a front row view of Josie getting undressed, and damn was it one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.
“One down, one to go,” she says loud enough for me to hear five or so feet away from where’s she’s perched. I stand in my spot, feet rooted, arms crossed over one another when all I want to do is come up behind her, snatch her off the Goddamn contraption that I’m now seeing is well beyond its years, rusted in certain places and probably a hazard to her health in the form of tetanus. While I’m further away than I’d like to be, should she start to top forwards or backwards, I can catch her. Preferably, that wouldn’t happen at all, but this is life, and shit always goes sideways.
“Yes, no more scratching on my window at night!” She’s excited, dropping the loppers to the ground, then doing another dance with her arms spread out, hips shaking, and my worst fucking nightmare is about to come true. My stride eats up the space between us.
“Josie,” I grumble loud enough for her to hear me as I wrap my hands around her waist, lifting her body up enough as the ladder pitches forwards. “Trace!” Gone is the happy girl who was excited she attacked a project on her own. Now she’s scared, curling her body around me, and I’m once again saving the woman I’m coming to realize has a very klutzy personality.