Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I should have just turned off my phone. It would have been the sensible thing to do. But receiving random details about this man’s life is fascinating. The mustang and bronco mentions are particularly interesting—makes me wonder if Connor is a cowboy. You have to appreciate someone who knows their way around a length of rope and is good with their hands. Of course, he might just be a general horse enthusiast. Either would be fine with me.
So far, I’ve received a thumbs up on the change of number from a school friend who moved to Missouri, and a slightly harsh Who is this? from an old college roommate. Such is life. Some fellow authors messaged to check that I had arrived in one piece. Which is nice.
The relative quiet over my new number announcement has made me think that maybe I’m to blame for the lack of meaningful connections in my life. I’ve been focused on building my business for the past five years.
As I walk down the block, I smile at the people I pass. And some even smile back. My goals for the day are thus: coffee, check out the local area, grocery shop, and get my word count done. Find new friends, true love, and the meaning of life would also be great. However, I’ll settle for managing to make conversation with at least one person in real life. I could use the practice.
The espresso machine hissing and spitting behind the counter in the Main Street Coffee House is a beautiful thing. And a number of people are gathered waiting, which is a good sign. Colorful paintings share wall space with notices for local events and some of the windows are stained glass. There’s also a whole lot of beautiful, lush potted plants. I am officially obsessed.
Soup and salad are listed on the chalkboard menu, and sandwiches and pastries fill a glass cabinet. Music plays and people chat. The overall vibe is so warm and welcoming. I can see myself working at one of the small wooden tables tucked away in a corner and gorging on coffee and cake.
“What can I get you?” asks the smiling barista when I finally reach the front of the line.
“A cold brew and a chocolate chip cookie, thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
She’s older than me and the embroidery on her tee says Shanti. Her skin is umber, and her hair is in Dutch braids. I pass her a twenty-dollar bill and she hands back the change. Now is the time to make friends by tipping big, and they’re doing dueling jars. How cool. The pizza place back home did this all the time. Things like boxers versus briefs or cats versus dogs.
Here, however, one tip jar reads AVA THE HOMETOWN HERO and the other says RILEY THE NEW GIRL.
What the fuck?
“Your name?” asks the waitress with a pen and a cardboard coffee cup in hand.
It cannot be real. I blink repeatedly, but the scene before me doesn’t change. What are the chances there’s another Riley in town who was recently accused of dating a certain dude? Ava has obviously been talking and texting up a storm.
When she sees me staring at the jars, Shanti sighs. “That’s just some local nonsense. Don’t pay it any mind.”
“There’s only a nickel in the new girl’s jar, but the other one is almost full.”
Shanti rests her hip against the counter while giving the other barista serious side eye. “Some people are mistaking real life for one of those damn reality dating shows.”
“It’s funny,” says the second barista, a young white man.
“Are you still going to think it’s funny when Connor finds out?” asks an older man in waders standing at the end of the counter.
The smile falls off the young man’s face. “That dude doesn’t have a sense of humor.”
“Not lately, he doesn’t. But he said he’d help you with the colt so you might want to try a little harder to stay on his good side.” Shanti turns back to me and says, “Your order won’t be long.”
I shove the few bills I have in my purse, along with some coins I find rolling around, into the new girl jar. It’s everything I have on me. Then I hide off to the side behind a particularly verdant fern. Shock is the prevailing emotion. I’ve only been in town for two days. How the hell have I already become part of the local discourse?
This could well sink my plans for debuting a new-and-improved seaside version of me. One who knows how to socialize, amongst other things. While I don’t have an exact outline for Riley 2.0, I would also appreciate it if I could stop randomly saying the wrong thing and regularly spilling crap on myself. Of course, it’s the dream to be cool, calm, and confident. Though I am pretty sure hiding behind foliage in public rules out those three. And what has never been on my list is becoming a man-thieving ho.