Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
My face turns beet red. Oh, my stars.
“You’re adorable,” she says, laughing softly. “I see why Brooks likes you.”
Why he likes me?
Cathy nods as if she understands me in a way I don’t even understand myself. It’s a dismissal, of sorts—a go on and think about it, but I get you, girl.
“Thank you for … everything,” I say, shrugging as if that’s an appropriate substitute to actual words.
She grins. “You’re welcome.”
I return her smile and then hightail it to the door and onto the porch. What the heck just happened in there?
The gravel crunches beneath my sneakers as I make my way back to the cabin, stepping over puddles and patches of muddy slop. A warm breeze ruffles my hair, and I pause to soak in the scent of promised spring—faintly sweet with a touch of earthiness. Instead of freezing me to the bone, it kisses my skin like it’s apologizing for tormenting it with sleet and snow for the past couple of months.
I walk slowly, letting my brain regroup from Cathy’s hot takes on Brooks and me. The sun warms my face and coaxes my nerves to settle, but it takes a quarter mile of walking before my internal systems return to a semblance of normalcy.
But it doesn’t stop noodling on what Cathy said.
“I see why Brooks likes you.”
This sentence rolls around my head continuously, echoing through the deepest recesses of my mind. I’m sure Brooks does like me, and I know he’s attracted to me. But I don’t think he likes me like she implied. In fact, he made it abundantly clear in the bar when he asked me flat-out if I had any ulterior motives or expectations, as if he would only entertain messing around with me if I understood this was a fling at best. Which—understood—I’m not out here hunting for a long-term anything.
I can only imagine what would happen if I took Brooks home to meet the family. Dad would hate his easygoing ways. Mom would perish as soon as he turned his smirk on her, then she’d deem him below our standards. And Drew … I frown. Well, Drew apparently hates him already.
How do I tell Drew that I know Brooks? Moreover, how do I convince Drew to vote for Brooks to fight again?
I nibble on my bottom lip and ponder this. It’s not like Drew needs to know everything that’s going on in my life, and I don’t share that level of detail with him anyway. Besides, we do have a great relationship, and it’s possible that Brooks just thinks Drew dislikes him. Drew can have a great poker face when he’s serious, and he’s serious about work.
My phone is heavy in my palm, so I bring it to my face and find Drew’s name in my texts.
Me: You busy?
Drew: Always. Why? What’s up?
Me: Can I call you really quick?
Drew: Sure.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter, pressing the call button. It rings twice before he picks up. “Hey, Drew.”
“Hi, Aud. What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing much,” I say, kicking a rock down the road. “Just getting some sunshine. It’s been snowy and rainy here for what feels like forever.”
He hums, obviously distracted.
“What about you?” I ask. “What’s going on in your world this weekend?”
“Getting situated in my new apartment. I have people here helping me get unpacked. Hang on a sec.” The line grows fuzzy. “That …. No. What are you doing? That goes in the back bedroom.” He pauses. “Sorry about that. Everything is clearly labeled so you’d think they could figure out where shit goes.”
I frown, uncertain how to take Drew’s attitude. “Maybe they got confused.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
I switch the phone between my hands and bring it to my other ear. Suddenly, I’m not sure how to approach the topic of Brooks. I’d really like to just leave it alone altogether, but I told him I’d put in a good word with Drew. It was my side of the bargain. And if I want him to follow through with his promises, which I do, then I have to make good on mine.
“So,” I say, taking a steadying breath, “how’s the new job?”
“There will be a formal announcement on Wednesday, I think. Maybe Thursday. There’s still paperwork being finalized, but then I’m expected to take the seat starting a week from Monday.”
“That sounds fun. What is it, exactly, you’ll be doing? I don’t think you’ve said.”
“Back bedroom,” he says to someone else. “Sorry, Aud. I’ll be on the NAFL Combat Commission. It’s a four-year term. But I’m also opening a gym out here in the meantime.”
I nod as my heart starts to race. This sounds exactly like what Brooks was describing—a commission that gets to decide if he fights again or not. Great.
“In a very strange turn of events, I know someone who I think you’ll be … encountering soon,” I say, choosing my words carefully.