Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“These can be big babies when they’re transplanted. They like to plant roots and stay for the long haul. They don’t take change well, so I’d cut the sides of the pot for it to grow and plant the whole thing.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Heston adds.
Shaking my head, I snap out of my daze.
“I’ll take them.”
13
Ominous clouds loom over the horizon. Droplets splash against the windshield as I round the bend, nearing my house. A shadow is in my driveway. A black van.
Who the hell is that?
As we pull into the driveway, the license plate cover comes into view, and I breathe out, remembering the insurance company was dropping off a rental. I pull my cell out of my bag and check it.
Right with Us Insurance: Vehicle is parked in driveway. Key is under the mat.
“Someone’s in your driveway, Rain.” Concern laces Heston’s voice, his face hard and serious. A dark, protective energy radiates from his pores, almost scorching me. He’s always on edge, ready to go to war. Something made him this way, and I want to know what.
Reaching across the console, I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. He flicks a hard glare my way.
“That—is my ride until my claim is processed.”
“That?” He points. “That’s your van?”
I nod, and a grin takes over his features.
He belts out a chuckle that turns into a laugh, and I playfully slap his arm.
“It’s cute,” I defend. In a soccer mom kind of way.
“You wanted the ’burb life—looks like you’re getting the whole experience.” He puts his truck in reverse and pulls in next to the van. I unbuckle and get out, rounding the bed of the truck. Heston meets me on the other side, grabbing the two shrubs.
“Shit!” I drop my head back, then palm my face. “I don’t have a shovel.” We lived in the city, where there was no digging of any kind.
“I got you covered.” Heston hands me the flowers and pulls a shovel from the bed of the truck, slinging it over his shoulder. Heston gone construction worker is definitely a turn-on and now I wish I bought every shrub Olive had.
He strikes the rich soil with the pointed tip of the blade, lifts his foot to the kickplate, and thrusts the spade into the ground.
“Here good?”
“Let me look.” Placing the plants down, I hurry to the middle of my yard, looking at my house and where he is.
“Hmm, a little more toward the door. I want them on each side of the walkway.” I point my finger for him to move inward about two feet.
“Here?”
“Perfect!”
He tugs the shovel from the ground, leaving a disrupted pile of dirt, and steps over two feet, right where I told him.
He thrusts the spade back into the ground and tosses the dirt to the side with ease. For a man who lives in the city, he knows his way around with a shovel pretty well. Grabbing the pots, I drop to my knees in front of the overturned earth and eye the side of the plastic container, looking for where I should cut it for the roots to grow.
“Here, use this.” Heston drops a pocketknife next to my foot, before moving on to dig the next hole. I lift it, immediately noting its weight. Caressing the hard black handle, I run my thumb underneath, looking for a way to open it. Feeling the liner lock, I press into it, and the blade swings out. The stainless steel is shiny and intimidating, making me flinch. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I throw a prayer to God that I don’t cut my finger off and press the edge of the blade to the plastic pot. It slices through like butter, without any pressure. I do it again on the other side, then to the other pot next to me.
Heston falls to his knees, grabs the shrub, and gently lowers it into the hole. Forcing the blade back into its place, I hand him the knife.
He slips it into his pocket, then uses both hands to grab the loose dirt and fit it around the plant. A low crack booms from the sky, followed by a low tide of rumbles. The clouds are near black. The sun has been swallowed whole. A raindrop falls on my hand, then another on my head, instantly soaking me.
“Shit, we better hurry.” Scrambling to stand up, I hurry to the next hole with Heston right behind me. Placing the pot into the hole in the ground, I position it just right. The rain comes down heavier. A flash of lightening illuminates the sky. We scoop the dirt and throw it in the hole, covering the roots as it turns to mud in our hands.
“That’s good!” I yell over the storm. We run to the front door and dart inside, both soaked with mud on our hands and arms. Mother Nature is angry—and she’s taking it out on anything within reach. Turning around, back against the door, Heston stares at me, his eyes hooded. His wet hair drips onto his face. His shirt clings to his chest and outlines his toned stomach. I know that look. The way he’s standing. Taking a step forward, he rushes me, grabbing the side of my face. His thumb just under my chin, he turns his head to the side and presses his thin lips along the damp skin of my neck. The cool air kisses the droplets slipping down my spine, heightening my senses. My muddy palms slide to his face as dirty water drips down his jaw, making him come off sexier. A low heat burns in my core. I moan into his mouth, running my fingers through his thick hair. Soft curls coil around my fingertips. He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it off, leaving my hair to fall into my eyes. His head falls between my breasts. His tongue slides along my skin, licking up the beads of rain. It feels so good. Too good. I cradle his head, feeling him lick and nip the valley between my boobs. My nipples harden as my lower half pulses.