Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Will made it his personal mission to have me ready to walk down the aisle on time without Victoria, the bride, knowing how close I’d come to leaving her short one bridesmaid. He could have walked away. I begged him to. He witnessed me at my worst before he knew if I was good at sex. Really, before either of us knew.” I chuckle.
“It wasn’t”—I shake my head—“nothing. It wasn’t everything either, at least not to him. But it was something.” I inhale a deep breath and slide my fingers under my legs, feeling vulnerable and desperate for someone to see it from my point of view. “I fell first. I fell hard. And when Will found out about my age, he ran too fast for me to catch him. So then I did what any young woman in my shoes would have done.”
“What’s that?”
“I obsessed over him for more than a decade.”
Jamie laughs.
With a shy grin, I rest my crossed arms on the edge of the table, waiting for her to look at me again. “When you came to Missoula and worked for me, I knew you wanted to make friends and just fit in.”
She nods once.
“That’s all I’ve wanted my whole life.”
“Then, as your friend, I have to give you some good advice.” She glances at her phone before sliding it into her tote. “Let Will go. No more obsessing. He’ll crush you because he’s still a boy who can’t understand the fragility of a young woman’s heart falling in love for the first time.”
I don’t react. She doesn’t know I kissed that boy earlier today, and my heart can’t let him go.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Will
It’s a midlife crisis.
That’s the best explanation for why I kissed Everleigh. I’m forty, single, and dealing with my father’s declining health. My job is stressful. I tweaked my back a few days ago.
There are so many reasons for my unusual behavior.
But scared? No. That’s absurd. What could I possibly be scared of?
“What did the poor mailbox do?” Everleigh asks, stepping out of her Subaru a little before eight at night.
I slide the head of the hammer into my jeans’ back pocket. “A snowplow clipped it last winter, and I’m tired of looking at the dent in the side. And the door doesn’t close properly.”
She lifts her brown leather tote onto her shoulder and cocks her head, inspecting the mailbox. “So you thought a second dent would solve the problem?”
I frown. “I had to hammer out that side so the door would close.”
She reaches for the door and gives it a hard tug before it opens. “Stiff.”
“It’s fine.” I head toward the garage. “Where have you been?” I cringe the second the words leave my mouth. It’s none of my business. More than that, I don’t care.
Keep telling yourself that, buddy.
“I had dinner with a friend.”
“You have a friend?” I grin with my back to her while I return the hammer to its hook above my tool bench.
“Jamie.”
I turn. “Jaymes?”
She casually nods.
“Why?”
“You’re awfully curious.”
I shrug, stepping past her. “Just making conversation.”
“Oh, I like conversation. Early this morning, I signed the papers for my land. How was the rest of your afternoon? Did you grab a nap after Alba finished cleaning? Did she do a marvelous job?”
Why did I speak to her?
I remove my boots and step into the house, setting them just inside the door.
“Looks clean to me,” she says, moseying into the kitchen and then depositing her bag on the table, where it doesn’t belong.
“That just proves you’re easy to please,” I say, washing my hands.
Everleigh flips her hair over her shoulder and laughs. “You’ve known that for a long time.”
I won’t take the bait. It’s a sex reference. We’re not talking about sex or kissing or anything like that.
“How’s Jamie? Are you moving out now that you’ve closed on your land?” I ask, grabbing a beer from the fridge, then twisting the top.
“Jamie’s good.” She sits on the sofa, tucking her legs under her while ignoring the moving out question.
“She’s feeling okay?” I ask, leaning against the counter before gulping the beer like a bottled water.
“Yes,” she says slowly. “Why do you ask?”
I shrug. “No reason. What did you two talk about?” My control evaporates. Did she tell Jamie about the kiss?
“Will, I think we should discuss what happened earlier, so it’s not weird.”
I take my time nursing the next sip of beer, and then I rub my lips for a few seconds while I ponder if there will ever be a day when my relationship with Everleigh Reichart is not weird. “Your housekeeper woke me up. Then you kissed me. I’m not sure why. Then my dad called. I ordered him cookies to be delivered. What’s there to discuss?”
“Since you don’t know why I kissed you, I think we should start there.”
“No.” I scoff, shaking my head. “Don’t talk like that.”