Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“I hate clubs.”
“Again, why are you dressed like you’re going to one?”
As we walk up the stone path to the house, I answer, “I had to go to a thing.”
“A thing? What kind of a thing?” he goads, reading me instantly. Brothers.
I grind my jaw. Am I telling Gavin I’m fake dating someone? No, that’d be a bad idea. He’d mock me in front of Dad, and the point of fake dating is, well, to fake it. If Remy could tell her boss, I can tell my brother. “I had to go to a picnic. With a woman,” I say.
Gavin’s eyebrows shoot to the moon. I brace for him to say you found someone who’d date you, but instead he just claps my back as we reach the porch. “Judging from the smile when you got out of your car, I’d say it went well.”
“I wasn’t smiling.”
“You’re such a bad liar,” he says, and we go inside, where I set the puzzle on the kitchen table, as Remy’s pretty voice replays in my head saying, “I like the dogs-with-jobs one.”
I replay other things as I head upstairs alone, thinking of her.
* * *
I have just enough time before morning skate for food and for a certain asshole cat who likes his morning walks. When I head downstairs, the scent of scrambled eggs and buttery toast floats toward me, making my stomach growl. My dad’s at the stove, moving some eggs around in a pan.
“Morning,” I say, then ruffle his hair. “I’m going to take Thor out for a walk. Want to come with me when you’re done?”
It’s rote. I ask it every day I’m here.
Dad blows out a thoughtful breath, like he’s considering it. “I have some things I need to finish up in here. But thanks for the offer.”
My heart clenches. “Got it.”
“It’s pretty funny to watch him go for a walk though. A cat on a leash.”
“Yeah,” I say with a smile that hurts my chest.
“Why don’t you take a video for me?”
I swallow roughly, then nod. “I will.”
He waves the spatula at the pan. “Want some eggs? You need to eat before you work out.
“Sure,” I say, since he likes to be the dad and, well, I like to eat.
He tips his forehead to me as he turns down the heat. “I heard you were dressed up last night.”
“Word travels fast around here.”
“It sure does,” he says as he plates the food. “Dressing up—was it for the woman you’re into?”
I picture Remy last night on the street asking if I’d tell him. I can see the curiosity in her brown eyes. “Yep. You want to know where we went?”
His eyes sparkle, and it gives me so much dangerous hope.
Before we sit down to eat, I grab the granola too. In between bites, I tell him about the puzzle store and the coffee and the woman who loves to ask questions.
“She’s smart and curious, and she sent me a picture of a hummingbird in the hummingbird feeder, and she took me to get granola, and she’s…” I hold the spoon midair.
“Pretty?” Dad asks.
“The prettiest,” I say, then narrow my eyes. “And no, I’m not going to take a picture of her for you.”
He laughs, knowing it was a joke.
After I clean up my plate, I wrangle Thor into his harness, one white paw after another, but it’s not hard since he loves his outdoor time.
The little stinker walks beside me, sniffing the path through the meadow, past the creek, to the edge of the property where a blue heron lands by a small lake, and a big owl watches high above in a black oak tree. A ladder rests against the fence, since it’s easier to keep one out here in the sanctuary.
I tie Thor’s leash to the fencepost so he’s safe. He lifts his furry face to the sun.
A portrait of contentment.
I snap a picture of him, stuff my phone in my pocket, then climb a tree and hang a new owl box. When it’s good and secure, I take a moment and look around. A stream snakes around the rolling hills on the property. Trails crisscross those hills, dotted with a few horses with riders on them, and their equine therapists leading them along. It’s peaceful, green, and lush. Nature at its best with humans caring for it with respect. When I climb down, I snap a photo of the owl box, then I set the ladder against the fence.
Once we’re back at the house, I say goodbye to my dad, then open the thread with Remy on my way to the car.
There’s the picture of the hummingbird she captured the other day, wings a blur, beak dipped in the sugar water, the morning sun glinting off the glass. What did she wear when she went out there? Sleep shorts and a little button-down sleep shirt? Leggings and a hoodie? Or was she all dressed up in those trim pants she wears that make her legs look incredible, checking on the feeder while looking like she’s about to slay the day?