Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Well, you’re in luck,” I said. “Welcome to Buc-ee’s. Home of the brisket sandwiches and seven thousand bathrooms.”
She smiled as we walked through the door, and I pulled her closer to me as people surrounded us.
“That cane gonna open up some walking room if you open it up?” I asked.
She pulled her sunglasses down over her face, which I hadn’t been aware she wasn’t wearing until now, and said, “Sure, let’s try.”
Sure enough, the moment she folded out the stick, people started to move out of her way, opening up a line throughout the middle of the busy store.
“You gonna be okay getting to the bathroom on your own?” I asked curiously as we paused in front of the entrance. The left led to the ladies, and the right the men’s.
“Sure,” she lied.
“I’ll help,” a little girl that looked to be about nine or ten in a soccer uniform said. “I can lead her to the handicap one. It’s closest to the entrance and the sink.”
I offered her a wink and turned to the dad and said, “You got a good kid there, man.”
The man nodded. “I do. But I can thank my wife, Angie, for that. All of our kids were feral as children and only half-feral now as adults. These grandkids are way better behaving than my children were.”
I chuckled.
“I heard that, Bowen Race Tannenbaum,” a woman said as she came up with about eight thousand snacks in her buggy. “Here, go pay for this while I take all these rascals to the bathroom.”
She had a whole hoard of kids with her, all of them dressed in the same red and blue uniform that the original girl had been wearing.
“We’re heading to a tournament with eight girls,” the man, Bowen, said. “I don’t think my eardrums will ever recover.”
I chuckled as I patted him on the back. “I can’t say that I’ve traveled with an entire soccer team before, but I do have a sister that has kids. And those kids have about eight thousand cousins running around at their circus.”
“Circus?” he asked.
“Literal circus,” I confirmed.
He shook his head.
“You should check it out if you’re headed to Dallas. Circus House,” I suggested. “Great place for the kids to run off some energy.”
“Oh, I always wanted to go there,” I heard Bindi reply. “But I guess there’s no point in going to a show like that anymore if I can’t see anything.”
That sucked, but she was right.
It’s not like she’d get anything out of sitting in a chair watching circus workers perform. It’s not like there was much talking during the show. Unless you were seated next to an asshole neighbor.
“Thanks.” Bowen jerked his chin.
“And thank you, ma’am.” I nodded at the soccer girl.
She waved and went to her grandfather, chattering animatedly about an apple pie that she wanted.
“She told me about the apple pies when we were washing our hands,” Bindi said. “I want one.”
We left with so many snacks that there was no way in hell we were going to get through them all.
But I enjoyed every second of her giving it a valiant effort.
“We’re here,” I said an hour and a half later when we pulled into the address that Trance had given.
“Where is here?” she asked as she unbuckled and started to get out of the car.
I let her since we were in a large parking area in the country.
“Kilgore, Texas,” I said as I walked around the truck and caught her hand. “We’re here to visit a friend.”
The door to the house opened and a woman waved at me. “Hey, Garrett, right?”
I nodded. “That’s me.”
“My dad’s on his way, but he had to stop for a couple more potty breaks than he was expecting because he has a potty-training puppy he’s dropping off with me.” She smiled. “I’m Oakley Vineyard, Trance’s daughter.”
“Garrett Carter. This is Bindi Howe,” I introduced them. “I’m…”
A rumbly sounding van pulled up and stopped somewhere behind us.
I hope one day I marry a kind, tall, bearded man who is nice and tells me yes anytime I ask for something.
—Bindi’s secret thoughts
BINDI
“That’s Dad,” Oakley explained. “Can you believe he put exhaust tips on that? My mom hates it.”
“What’s so funny about exhaust tips being on a vehicle?” I questioned.
“It’s a Sprinter Van,” Gee explained. “One of those long-ass passenger vans that looks like it should be dropping snooty people off at resorts.”
My mouth turned up at the edges. “That’s actually pretty cool. My mom hated the idea of a van herself, and Dad got her one of those old Ford ones then jacked it up. He also had it powder coated Barbie doll pink.”
It was Oakley who let out an amused giggle. “Don’t tell Dad, or that’ll be next.”
“Don’t tell me what?” the man that was likely Trance called out.
I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “Hey, Gee?”