Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
That made me a little sad for the guy. And I also felt kind of wrong talking about him behind his back, so I ended my conversation with Hank. “Well, thanks for the talk.”
“No problem, January.” He winked.
Yeah. I walked over to the bar and called to the bartender on duty. “Excuse me.”
He turned. “What can I get ya?”
“Oh, nothing to drink. But when you see Brock, can you give him this shirt? It belongs to him.” I held it out.
He took it. “Sure thing.”
“Thanks so much.”
Since I’d skipped the alcohol during my quick visit to the bar, I began my walk back to Sierra Wellness completely sober. I deserved a gold star or something, given this disappointment of a night.
While it bummed me out that I didn’t have a chance to see Brock, I was probably better off, since this whole thing had become one big distraction from the real reason I was here. I needed to focus on my mental health and go back to the City with a clear head.
Clear your head, not give head, Feb. Don’t misunderstand the assignment. I laughed to myself as I walked.
About five minutes later, I heard footsteps behind me.
My pulse raced.
The road was dark, and if anything bad happened to me out here, good luck calling for help—especially with no damn phone.
I picked up my pace, but the next thing I knew, something came charging past me.
It was a dog.
“Oak! Slow down, you big-ass goon!” a familiar voice shouted.
Brock raced past me and caught the dog by the leash. I ran to catch up with them.
“I guess live animals are a bit more challenging than the dead ones back at your place, huh?”
His eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing walking on the road this late, Fancy Pants?”
“Actually, I think a better name for me would be No Pants, wouldn’t it?”
“You said it, not me. I wasn’t gonna go there.”
“Why did Oak run away like that?”
“He goes nuts when the streetlights cast a shadow. He tries to run away from himself. But then in the midst of that, some little animal crossed our path, and he tried to chase it.”
“Aw, he just wants a friend for the bathtub.”
Brock’s expression remained serious. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing out here?”
“I went to the bar to return your shirt.”
“You didn’t need to risk your life to return my shirt.”
“This is hardly risking my life.”
“Really? And how the hell are you gonna fend off someone all by your damn self out here? You wouldn’t be able to call nine-one-one fast enough before someone came up behind you.”
“Actually, I don’t have a phone, so I wouldn’t be calling anyone. They confiscate all devices at the center.”
“Wow.” He tugged on the leash. “No phone on top of everything else. They don’t teach common sense in handbag school, do they?”
“No, I must’ve missed that module, along with the taxidermy lesson. I guess you’re just a whole lot smarter than me, Lumberjack.”
He grinned. “I take it your ladder is safely in place tonight, if you snuck out?”
“Yes. Rest assured, no other man’s shoulders will be corrupted.”
The low rumble of his unexpected laughter vibrated through me. “Well, that’s good. Lucky me.”
We stood facing each other. “I left your shirt and notebook with the bartender on duty.” I crossed my arms. “By the way, why did you write that I was silly?”
“Thanks for invading my privacy.”
“I couldn’t help it. It fell out of your pocket, and I didn’t know what it was.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why am I silly?”
“Because only a silly woman would put herself in the situation you did last night. I could be an ax murderer for all you know.”
“No, you couldn’t, with your little acts of kindness. You just look like one.” I scratched my chin. “Actually, if you murdered those animals on your wall, maybe you are.”
“I didn’t kill those animals. I just wanted you to think I did.”
“Someone killed them.”
“It wasn’t me. I inherited those heads.” He frowned. “Why did you read my notebook?”
“Because I’m nosy.” I tilted my head. “What’s the deal with those entries anyway?”
He placed his hand on my arm, leading me away from the road. “There’s a car coming. Come sit over here, off the road.”
We moved to a rock in a grassy area a few feet away. The dog rested on the ground between us.
“Those notes are personal,” he said. “But since you chose to butt your nose into my business, I record one good deed a day, yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s something my grandfather taught me. My mother’s father. My dad wasn’t around much growing up. Gramps helped raise me. He used to keep a record just like mine in a similar notebook. He’d always say, if a person could perform one good deed a day, that would cancel out any bad things he might’ve done.” Brock shrugged.