Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 12270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 61(@200wpm)___ 49(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 61(@200wpm)___ 49(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
"This pizza is so good," I say, scrambling to explain myself. "I'm starving.”
He looks … intrigued. "Me too."
I finish eating my slice and take another long sip of lemonade. Across the island, Owen stretches his arms over his head, flexing his muscles. I watch, transfixed, as the tendons in his forearms and biceps stand out. He's so gorgeous, it's almost unfair.
"Tell me about your decision to buy this place. I always imagined you somewhere brand new and spotless."
I chuckle. "Well, I wanted to live outside the city. I like the quiet." I pause, thinking. "But more than that, I've always wanted to restore something." I look around at the house. "It's full of potential. All this beautiful woodwork, the ornate details. It's like a blank canvas."
Owen nods, looking around the room thoughtfully. "You have a real eye for it. This place is amazing."
"Thanks," I say, giving him a warm smile.
He turns back to me, his expression growing serious. "So why'd you call me? You know Jake would have jumped at the chance to help you with this."
"Because Jake is..." I search for the right word. "Inexperienced. And clumsy. And I wanted it done right." I look at him meaningfully. "You're the best."
Owen's face flushes, and I can't help but grin. It's adorable.
"Well, I appreciate the vote of confidence. But let's see if we can get the room cleared out before we make any grandiose plans for renovations," he replies.
"Fair enough. Can I get you a slice?"
Owen nods, and I pull out another piece, sliding the box over to him.
"How are you holding up?" he asks, taking a bite of the pizza. "Settling in, okay?"
I shrug. "As well as can be expected. I'm slowly getting everything off the moving truck and inside the house. It'd be a lot easier if I had a big, strong man around all the time to help me."
Owen coughs, briefly choking on the lemonade he's taking before laughing. "Guess you're going to need to call your brother, like it or not."
Is this guy really not picking up on a single hint I'm putting down? Or is he being purposefully obtuse? I know there's a chance that Owen simply isn't into me, but I would have sworn I caught him looking at me here and there over the years. He's always been sweet and polite, but sweet and polite isn't what I'm looking for from him now.
"Maybe," I hedge, disappointed that my flirtatiousness isn't getting me anywhere.
After lunch, Owen goes upstairs one more time to make a list of what he thinks he'll need and snap a few pictures, but before I can come up with a reason to get him to hang around, he heads out to his work truck and leaves. As I watch it disappear down the road, I'm struck by a wave of annoyance. What did I do wrong? Is he really that concerned about pissing off my brother that he won't make a move even when I'm being pretty damn clear about what I want?
Or, maybe Owen is simply a man, and the signals I'm putting out just aren't clear enough. Tomorrow, I'll have to kick it into high gear. That thought makes me feel a little better. It gives me a plan and hope for tomorrow.
With a little more pep in my step, I decide to unload a few more boxes from the moving truck. I've been taking my time unpacking before moving more inside so I don't get too frazzled. I borrowed the truck from a friend of a friend in exchange for a photoshoot so I'm not in any rush, and it's been a great deal for me so far.
As I go to the back of the truck, my eyes catch on something. A man is walking across the street towards my house. His shoulders are hunched, and his head is down. I can't make out his face, but I don't recognize him as any of the few neighbors I've met so far.
"Hello?" I call.
The man stops and looks up. When he sees me, a huge smile splits his face. "Good afternoon!"
I watch as he jogs across the street and stops at my gate. He's middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair and a round belly. His cheeks are pink and ruddy, like he's been outside too long in the summer sun.
I open the gate and step through. "Hi. Can I help you with something?"
"Actually, I was wondering if I could help you," the man says. "I saw you were moving in, and I thought you might need some assistance."
Hm. I could use the help, but as a sensible woman, I know better than to accept help from male strangers, especially when we'd be all alone in my house."Oh, uh. Thank you, but I'm okay for now."
He doesn't move. "Are you sure? Because I have some free time. I could lend a hand or a tool." His grin widens.