Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Absolutely. Riley is as beautiful as you said. Maybe more,” Kyle says after a large gulping drink.
“So sweet,” Mom sighs. “Riley, did Kyle tell you that he’s in the National Guard? He drives a tank.”
“No, Mom. Mostly, we were talking about how embarrassing this is,” I tell her flatly.
“Riley!” Mom exclaims. Kyle snickers, saving me from Mom’s wrath. For now.
Not that she’ll kill me. She’s more the type to give ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ speeches. They’re the worst because I hate to disappoint my parents.
“Thanks for the tea, Mrs. Watson.” Kyle hands back the empty glass and turns to get back to work.
Mom frowns at his back and then glares at me. So I grab the corn seeds and ask, “Where should I put these?”
We get to work, Mom continuing to try and play matchmaker as Kyle does all the physical work while she and I do things like scatter handfuls of fertilizer or use a stick to poke holes for the corn seeds. More than once, though, I still have to bite my tongue as Mom seems to think it’s cute to tell every embarrassing story she can about me.
“One year, I had this stunted tomato. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. It just wouldn’t flower or even stay green,” Mom tells Kyle as he uses a sledgehammer to drive stakes into the ground for the netting to keep out the crows. “I couldn’t figure out why until I found little Riley here . . . watering the plant.”
“Mom!” I protest, flushing deep red. “I was seven!”
“And you wanted to learn how to pee standing up,” Mom says with a prim little giggle. “You chose that tomato plant as your target and were determined to figure out a way to do it. So Kyle, this one summer afternoon, I come out to find Riley almost bent over backward, trying to—”
“Mom!” I protest again, cutting her off. “I think Kyle gets the point.”
Kyle takes it in stride, shrugging. “We all do things as kids. My brothers and I used to have competitions to see who could pee the furthest. Had a special tape measure and everything,” he confides before chuckling, “I think my mom was just glad we were staying hydrated and peeing outside instead of on her bathroom floor.”
He’s trying to make me feel better. Or maybe he really did have literal pissing contests with his brothers? Either way, I’m still about to kill my mother, and I decide to take control of the conversation.
“Kids,” Mom laughs agreeably. “Riley’s housebroken now, of course. Now, she does some sort of internet thing I don’t quite understand.”
The prompt hangs in the air for me to fill in and chatter away with Kyle about what I do and ask what he does the way people do on first dates. But that’s not what this is.
And I do not want him to associate anything about this interaction with Riley Sunshine, especially when he’s already said I look familiar.
“Nothing special. Just some IT work. And you do large-scale gardening, you said?” I put the focus back on Kyle, especially considering there’s no telling what Mom told him about me.
Kyle nods. “Yup. Speaking of, I think I’m about done here.” He leans on the hoe and surveys the garden. We’ve made quick work of it with his help, even with Mom playing matchmaker.
“Oh, yes. I suppose we have. Let me get your money,” Mom tells him, keeping this as awkward as possible. I swear I feel like my mother hired me a date for the afternoon, like an escort service or something!
Gigalos and Gardens, making your weekends hot.
Mom slowly walks to the house and Kyle meets my eyes with a kind smile. “No big deal. I figure one day, one of these ‘meet my daughter’ deals might actually be my future bride.”
Is he for real? Is that how people meet?
Not that I have any room to talk. I met my soulmate on BlindDate, but arranged meet-ups seem different. Though maybe not? It’s another form of a blind date, I suppose.
And good on him for being open to finding love however it comes.
I walk Kyle out front to his truck and Mom regretfully comes out to meet us. “Here you go, Kyle. Maybe you can come help again soon?”
I glare at her, my eyes yelling ‘STOP!’
Kyle shakes his head. “I don’t know, I’m getting pretty busy. A lot of big jobs coming up.” He’s letting my mom down easy.
“Oh. Okay, then,” Mom says glumly. “Well, thank you so much. I never would’ve gotten all that work done in one afternoon without you, Kyle.”
He dips his chin and hops in his truck, loudly driving away down the street. I have one split second of joy that I survived that train wreck before another car comes down the street.