Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“It gets worse,” I confided. “My mom had a huge kitchen all decked out with roosters. They were everywhere…on the walls, curtains, dish towels. To this day, I don’t like roosters.”
“Shit. I’d better cancel the rooster cookie jar I bought you online.”
“Don’t even joke about it. Imagine being surrounded by rooster eyes in dead silence every morning while choking down a bowl of Cheerios.” I shivered theatrically. “I still have nightmares.”
“I feel that way about Furbys. Remember those weird little fuckers? It was like an ‘owl had sex with a mini troll’-looking thing. Ugh. They creeped me out. My mom decided my brother and I should collect them when I was a kid. Like what the actual fuck was I gonna do with a closet full of Furbys?”
I snorted with laughter and immediately fell into that easy familiar rhythm with this sweet, funny, sexy man who gave me butterflies and made my heart skip a beat. This was us in his basement, in his kitchen, in his bed, on his sofa with our legs tangled…snickering at our younger selves, sharing pieces of our lives with no judgment, no expectation.
We talked through course after course, happy in our little insulated corner. It took everything in me not to reach across the table to touch him…his fingers, his hand, his forearm. I felt giddy with a bone-deep contentment I wasn’t sure I deserved. I wondered if it was the same for him.
So yes, of course I had to ruin it.
“I’ll take that.” I grabbed the bill the server left on the table and pulled out my wallet.
“Put it away. And don’t argue,” Smitty insisted. “This is a date, remember?”
“Yeah, but I asked you out.”
“No, it was my idea and it was a good one.”
I waited till we were alone to blurt, “I lied about us…to JC and Tracy. I told them you were interested in buying property so we had an alibi in case anyone got curious. I should have mentioned it earlier. I didn’t want you to get blindsided, and it was the only logical excuse I could think of for us to be in the same place on purpose. Which was why the salesperson and my ex-wife both made that assumption. And it was probably very awkward for you to meet Piper like that—”
“Not for me. I was curious about her. But I don’t get the impression you’re hung up on your ex or—”
“Good Lord, no! No. We’re friends.”
He shrugged. “That’s nice. So…I met your friend.”
“Who thinks I’m selling you a house and also probably thinks I have a crush on you. Along with everyone else in this restaurant.”
“Who cares what they think?” he scoffed. “We don’t have to confirm or deny anything. We don’t owe anyone an explanation. No one.”
He was right. We didn’t.
“I still lied.”
“That was a baby lie. Barely counts.” Smitty scribbled his signature and stood. “But we can make it true. Let’s take a walk and check out the houses in Pinecrest.”
Pinecrest was Elmwood’s posher, more sophisticated older sister. The awnings matched on their main street, the windows were spotless, and their fountain didn’t just trickle…it cascaded over a statue of two figures holding pinecones. And the homes were stately and well-maintained. Not one stinker in the bunch.
A house like the Rinaldis’ would never have been tolerated in Pinecrest. A preservation society would have taken over while Mrs. Rinaldi was still alive and kicked her to the curb if necessary. Okay, maybe not, but they had stringent codes and they were sticklers about uniformity. I sold a lot of real estate in all four towns in the Four Forest area, and I knew for a fact that it cost a pretty penny to live in Pinecrest.
I led Smitty down Lakeview Avenue, pointing out the mayor’s two-story colonial and the palatial waterfront estate that belonged to a B-movie actress from the fifties. We strolled along an empty stretch of boardwalk beyond a park filled with pines, and stopped at the edge of a low cliff to stare at the sky full of stars.
“This is the crest,” I explained, widening my arms with a flourish. “The towns were named for their specific features. In this case, pine trees and this little jut of rocks on the water. Funny, isn’t it? There’s a copse of elms near Carlton Creek, so…Elmwood. In Wood Hollow there’s a variety of tree that has a hollowlike opening at the trunk and Fallbrook is where the only waterfall in the area spills into the brook.”
“I love it. This is beautiful. I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” Smitty shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his chin skyward. “I can see why you stayed here.”
“I stayed because it’s safe,” I admitted. “Very low crime and drug use. I needed that for myself as much as my son. At least I did when I first moved here.”