Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 40942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” she said.
“The boys got your car,” he said as she picked up a fork and scooped some potatoes up.
Should she be eating with her hands? He wanted to insist on feeding her, but even he knew that was going too far.
“Oh, thank you! That’s amazing.”
“I don’t want you driving it,” he demanded.
“I won’t drive it until my hands are healed. Oh, do I need to go and get groceries, though?”
“I don’t want you driving it at all until a mechanic has looked it over. It’s unsafe. I think you need new tires, too. And we get our groceries delivered. I’ll show you how to put in an order.”
“Driving it at all?” she repeated.
“At. All.”
Grandpa Jack cleared his throat. “Don’t think you can make those demands as her boss, boy.”
There was a strange note in his grandfather’s voice. But he didn’t take the time to decipher it. He was too focused on Blakely.
“It’s too dangerous. Understand?”
“Um. I suppose so,” she said hesitantly.
“I know someone that will come look at it when they have time.”
“No rush,” she said. “Not like I can afford to pay someone just yet.”
Stafford thought about offering her an advance on her wages, but she shouldn’t be driving for a while with her hands, anyway.
“Good. Are you all settled in?”
“Yes, thanks. The room is lovely.”
“The flower room, my Elsie used to call it,” Grandpa Jack said. “She loved that bedroom.”
“It’s beautiful. I’ll take good care of it.” She ate some more potatoes.
Why wasn’t she eating the steak?
“You a vegetarian, girly?” Grandpa Jack asked.
“Oh no.” She grasped hold of the knife and attempted to slice through the meat.
Shit. Her hands.
Reaching over, he carefully took the utensils from her hands and cut the steak up for her without a word.
When he slid the plate back in front of her, she gave him a look filled with wonder.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly, ignoring the look his grandfather shot him.
She was injured. He was only doing what anyone would.
Or that was what he told himself.
7
“What the hell are you doing?”
Blakely sat up, banging her head against the shelf. “Oh. Ouch. Ouch. Ouchie.”
“Shit . . . I mean, shoot, girl,” Grandpa Jack said.
She turned to see him standing in the doorway of the pantry. Her eyes were watering from the pain in her head.
“I was looking for a lunchbox for Stafford.”
“Boy is forty-two. Don’t think he’s used a lunchbox in years,” he said. “Come out of there. You’re not supposed to be working until your hands heal.”
“I’ve been here three days,” she complained as she stood and followed him out of the pantry. “They’ve healed and I’m going nuts with boredom. I have to do something. I feel like a freeloader.”
He grunted. “You got to do as you’re told, girl.” He reached into the smaller freezer they had in the house and pulled out an ice pack. “Put this on your head.”
So far, things between her and Jack had been a bit awkward. He seemed to be doing his best to avoid her. He appeared for meals and if Stafford wasn’t there, which happened more often than not, then it was a very silent affair.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“What for?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m intruding on your private space. If you’d rather I left, I understand.”
“Where would you go?” he asked as he sat.
She shrugged. “I’d find a place. I’m resourceful.”
He eyed her. “You haven’t got any family?”
“Uh, no. My parents died when I was ten and I lived with my grandfather until he died. Then I went into foster care.”
“Sounds like a hard life.”
“Life is what you make it, right?” She rubbed her head. Ouch. That bang had really hurt. “Have you got any other grandkids?”
“Nope. We only had one son, Stafford’s dad. He died of cancer about ten years ago. Stafford’s mom, well, she divorced him when Stafford was a baby. We never saw her again. They lived in Wyoming. But he used to come out and stay with us during the summer holidays.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It is what it is.”
They sat for a while as he did his crossword. But the silence didn’t seem so awkward.
“Would you like a coffee? Or tea?” she asked, setting the ice pack aside and standing.
“You feeling all right, girl? Not dizzy?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Your hands?” he asked.
“They’re good too.”
“Fine, then. I’ll take a cup of tea. Use the white cups. They’re cheap and it doesn’t matter if you break them.”
She smiled. “You got it, Mr. Hill.”
He eyed her. “Thinking you better just call me Grandpa Jack. Be easier.”
“All right, Grandpa Jack.” Blakely made him a cup of tea and got herself some coffee before sitting with him.
“How do you feel about checkers?” Grandpa Jack asked suddenly.
“Checkers?” she asked.
“Yeah, I haven’t played in a few years. Would you be interested in a game?”