Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Our lips meet in a tender brush, like a quiet hello. There you are. The missing piece of me. It’s like coming home. We kiss softly, tenderly holding each other for several long minutes before I pull away and get my bearings. I could easily stay like that all day and night.
It takes everything in me to make my lips utter the words, “I should get going.”
Micah’s expression is forlorn. “Thanks for the help.”
He swipes at his eyes, and I can’t tell if it’s because of us or the grief over losing his grandfather. Either way, it makes my throat clog with emotion.
“No problem. Let me know what else I can do.”
“Got any experience getting a fishing boat up and running?” he lobs at me, and I laugh as I head out the door.
8
MICAH
After a morning of driving bags of junk to the local dump, I head back out the door because a guy’s got to eat. If I’m gonna stick around here for the time being, I need to arm myself with better supplies than the Pop-Tarts and cans of soup I found in the pantry. Rosie helped keep my grandfather stocked, but our palates have always been different. His was way blander.
My cell rings as I slide into my car. It’s my manager from the restaurant, so I answer on the first ring. “How’s it going?” he asks.
“Eh, you know how it is.” He’d shared with me that his dad had recently passed away. “The house is a wreck, and I’m not sure if it’s going to sell without a serious undertaking.”
“Take all the time you need. Your job will be here when you return.”
“Are you sure?” God, that’s generous of him. But he’s always been a kind boss, allowing me to trade shifts whenever an audition came around.
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks.” I end the call and then drive into town. Outside of the notable new businesses and the now defunct butcher shop whose windows are covered while Jack decides what to do with the space, everything seems about the same.
I park and head into Honeycomb, knowing I won’t be able to avoid the McCoys forever. Besides, Dina is married to Chuck, and he’s been genial to me throughout this ordeal.
The bell clangs above the door as I enter.
“Well, look who it is,” Dina says, causing other customers to turn and stare. “Sorry to hear about your grandfather.”
My gut churns at the attention drawn to me, but in all honesty, his death still doesn’t seem real. Not even with the urn containing his ashes sitting on the fireplace. “Thanks.”
“Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen him in the last couple of years. But I’ve gotten to know Rosie.”
I fiddle with one of the honeycomb lotions at the counter. “Yeah, she’s a good person.”
“Chuck says you’re getting help with the place?”
“Yeah, as soon as it’s cleared out, Aaron is going to take a crack at it.”
“Good plan. The cottage he bought turned out amazing.” She motions toward the street. “No doubt he and Jack will turn the butcher shop into something amazing too.”
“I heard.” I’m tempted to drive over to Mrs. Martin’s old residence to see the renovation, but it’s not like I’m checking Aaron’s references or have many other options. Besides doing the work myself, which would only keep me in town longer.
“So, what brings you in today?”
“Need to restock.”
I grab a basket and fill it with odds and ends I won’t be able to find on my grocery trip, like shampoo and soap—made with honey, of course. I can feel the other customers’ scrutiny, but I ignore it. No doubt I’m considered double trouble now that I left not only Aqua Vista, but my husband too.
“Micah Malone. I remember you.” I stiffen at the voice, only to find a longtime resident with her cat on a leash. I’m surprised he hasn’t figured out how to slip out of the collar yet and head for the nearest tree.
I offer her a tight smile. “Morning, Ms. Sussan.”
“You finally came home,” she replies in a scolding tone as if I’m some prodigal son. And maybe I am—going off to do foolish things with my money and time.
“My grandfather passed away.”
She nods. “He was a stubborn man, but he lived a good, long life in this town.”
“He did.” I think. Mostly. How the hell does she know anyway? This is the sort of bullshit small-town talk I despise.
She smirks. “You still causing trouble, or did you make your grandpa proud?”
Fuck, why does that question hit me so hard? Not only the bluntness of it, but the realness too. Did I? “Sure hope so. I’m living in Los Angeles and working hard.”
She studies me as if she doesn’t believe me. “What kind of work?”
“I’m—” I want to lie to prove to these people that I made something of myself. “I’ve gotten some small roles in movies and commercials, and I work at a popular restaurant in my spare time.”