Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“Romance novels?” Chris interrupted.
“I don’t-” Hayley declared lamely. But it didn’t matter because the checkout girl steamrolled her anyway.
“Girlfriend here cleans us out every time. And it was cool at first, because, lord knows we all need a little fictional lovin’ from time to time, but there is no substitute for the real deal, girl,” she chastised Hayley, who pretended to be looking for the lost treasure of the Sierra Madre in her wallet.
“He’s not my…” Hayley spluttered. “He’s not my anything. He’s just my landlord.”
The girl tossed items haphazardly into plastic bags and shrugged. “Land lord, feudal lord, pirate king. Doesn’t matter.”
“Pirate king?” Chris clarified, interrupting once again.
The girl eyed him. “Well, maybe not pirate king. You don’t have the hair for it. Highlander either.”
Chris looked at Hayley. “How many of these books do you read, Slick?”
“All of them,” the check out girl answered. “Which is too many. Ain’t healthy living in her head like that.”
“I agree,” Chris said, grinning.
“I hate both of you,” Slick declared.
“So,” Chris said, leaning on his cart. “If I’m not a pirate king or a highlander, what kind of romance novel character am I?”
The checkout girl looked him up and down. “Definitely contemporary. Maybe a fireman or-”
“Army ranger?” Chris asked teasingly.
The girl picked up a sales flier and fanned herself. “Lord, girl you snagged yourself an Army man?”
“Landlord,” Slick repeated. “Land. Lord. No snagging.”
“We’re having lunch today,” Chris told the checkout girl. “She’s making roast beef sandwiches.”
“There was a sale,” Slick whined. “I like roast beef.”
The checkout girl shook her head. “Girl, you like some kind of beef, I’ll give you that. You take that man home and get some beef, okay?”
Slick slammed her wallet down on the counter. “He is my landlord! He’s not my boyfriend! Or my pirate king! Or a highlander missing his underwear! He is my Landlord!”
There was an embarrassing silence as everyone around them stopped to look. The checkout girl crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Well. That’s disappointing as hell.” Her hand snaked out around the register and she grabbed a candy bar off the shelf. She ran it through the scanner. “If you aren’t getting any of that, then you’re gonna need some of this,” she announced holding up the chocolate bar. Slick paid, grabbed the candy bar, and stomped out the automatic doors.
When Chris made it out to the parking lot, he saw she had chucked her bags into the truck’s bed and was sitting, angrily, yes the woman could sit angrily, he noted, in the cab. He tossed his own bags in the back and slid into the front seat. Before he cranked the engine he looked sideways at her. “Highlanders?”
“They don’t wear underwear,” she muttered.
“Yeah, I saw the movie.”
“I just want roast beef,” she declared. “And I want you to wear underwear.”
“I can handle both of those things, Slick. I promise.” She eyed him warily. “Of course, I’ll have to go home and put underwear on….”
She turned pink and looked away, but she was grinning.
Chapter 9
Hayley found she was more than a little nervous when Chris knocked on the door two hours later. Nervous to be alone with him, but not for all the usual reasons and since she didn’t know what to do with that, she pushed it away and called out, “It’s open.” Chris came in, carrying the chips he’d bought and a six pack of beer. Hayley was dishing out cole slaw. “We can eat outside,” she told him, nodding toward the back door. “It’s nice out.”
“Sounds good,” he replied and headed that way. On a trip back into the kitchen, he gathered glasses, napkins and silverware. Hayley picked up two plates of sandwiches.
At the small table on the back deck, Chris offered her a beer, but she declined.
“It’s past noon, Slick,” he informed her.
“I know but it wouldn’t be a good idea,” she replied. “I don’t drink much.” Or ever, she thought to herself. “And I have cookies in the oven. Drunken kitchen fires were not on my to-do list for today.”
He grinned at her. “You’re baking me cookies? Hot at noon, right on schedule.”
“I am not baking you cookies,” she shot back. “I’m baking me cookies. My last apartment didn’t have an oven and I miss cookies like you wouldn’t believe.” She eyed him from across the table and then sighed. “But I guess, since you mowed my lawn and are directly responsible for me being able to buy the ingredients for said cookies, you can have one.”
At that moment the microwave timer beeped and she headed back into the house. Intrigued by the cookie smell, Chris followed her. She pulled a baking sheet out of the oven and set it on the range. He peered around her. “Chocolate,” he surmised.
“Yes, but with a secret ingredient,” she told him, reaching for a spatula and a dinner plate she’d already set on the counter. She started scooping them up and putting them on the plate to cool.