Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
She puts a hand on her hip and stops a few feet away. “So how was your first day at work?”
Of all the things I imagined, this was not what I thought she would say. “Uh, it was good.”
She nods. “Okay, I didn’t ask, and I was wondering.”
I nod, watching her closely.
She points north. “Isn’t your club in Whiskey Run?”
I grunt and nod.
She tilts her head. “That’s like thirty minutes from here.”
I nod, wondering where she’s going with this. “Yep, it is.”
There’s the slamming of a screen door, and I look at Emily’s neighbor that is standing in his yard staring at us. I gesture to Emily. “You should probably go inside before the neighbors call the police.”
She scrunches her pretty nose up. “Call the police? Why would they call the police?”
I widen my stance and cross my arms over my chest. I’m not going to say it again. It’s obvious how different we are, and I’m sure her neighbors don’t want me in their neighborhood.
She sucks in a breath and blows it out slowly. “Jack?”
By the tone of her voice, I know she’s about to ask me something, and she’s nervous about it.
She takes a step toward me. “Well, first of all, I don’t care what my neighbors think, or anyone else, for that matter. And second, would you come in and eat dinner with me?”
I open my mouth, prepared to say no, but the way she’s looking at me has me changing my mind. “You sure you want me to come in for dinner?”
She nods her head. “Yes, I’m sure.”
I gesture up her driveway. “I’ll follow you.”
She turns and slowly walks toward her house. She stops and waves at her neighbor. “Hey, Allen, how’s it going?”
The neighbor smiles at Emily and then gives me a dirty look. I’m waiting on him to ask if I’m bothering her when Emily continues. She points at me over her shoulder. “This is my friend, Jack. Jack, this is my friend and neighbor, Allen.”
The older man glares up and down at me. I wait for the threat or something hateful, but he just nods his head. “Well, any friend of Emily’s is a friend of mine.” He walks to the fence and holds his hand out. I’m surprised to say the least, but I stride to the fence and put my hand in his. To his credit, he doesn’t stare at my tattoos. He nods his head. “Well, I’ll let you young people get to it.”
He turns to go but then stops. “Hey, so those other two gentlemen on bikes, they your friends?”
I almost laugh. This is probably the first time the prospects have been called gentlemen. “Yeah, they’re my friends.” And because I like this guy, I gesture toward Emily. “I worry about her working at the prison, and I have them keep an eye out for her when I can’t.”
As soon as I say it, I know I’ve said too much. All this time I’m telling myself, I’m telling Emily and everyone else that I’m no good for her and then I pretty much let her neighbor think we’re together. Before I can take it back, Allen is nodding his head. “Good, good. If they need backup, just let me know.” He points at his chest. “Retired Marine.”
I give him a nod. “Thank you for your service.”
He walks up to his porch, and I follow Emily into her house. I look around her living room, and it’s exactly how I pictured it. It’s feminine and cozy, everything Emily. She slides off her shoes by the door and walks farther into the house. “Do you like spaghetti?”
“Honey, it’s been so long since I’ve had a home cooked meal, I’ll eat anything.”
She looks at me sadly, and I hate that I put that look on her face. “Hey, don’t do that. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
She sucks in a breath and then walks over to the kitchen. “Okay, so I already have sauce in the freezer. It will only take me fifteen minutes.”
I slide off my cut and lay it on the back of the couch then walk to the island in her kitchen. “I’m sorry.”
She’s pulling pans out and working on the meal but looks at me in confusion. “What are you sorry for?”
I walk around the island. I should keep my space from her, but I can’t just stand here while she works. I don’t answer her question because I have a lot to be sorry for. “Put me to work. What can I do?”
She looks at me like she’s trying to read my mind or something and then seems to give up. She points to the freezer. “Can you get the garlic bread out and put it on the pan?”
I do what she asks, and we work side by side. It’s all very domestic, and I’m waiting for the unease to hit. This has never been my thing, but right now I can feel myself enjoying it, and even though I should keep myself guarded, I don’t want to.