Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Well, it would have to cut off here,” she told me, stopping between a set of windows at the back. “No one is in the other side right now, but someone could move in at any time. I don’t want to have any issues with Trix. But the whole other side would be great. I mean, if it’s not too much.”
“Not at all. It’s a good yard. Needs some love, but you’ll get there.”
“Yeah. I have all kinds of boards drawn up. I think those two trees are going to be perfect for a hammock. Though I think I need a shed too for all my tools.”
“Doesn’t this place have a basement?” I asked, eyeing the little windows near the foundation of the house.
“Apparently, but the access must be in the other side of the duplex. So, no basement and no garage means my dining room has kind of become my tool station right now.”
“In that case, I’ll build a double gate, so when the time comes, the company can drive through the backyard to drop the shed. I have a ton of extra wood lying around. Once I unload here, I’ll run and grab it.”
“You’re amazing,” she said, shooting that megawatt smile at me. I swear that thing packed a punch. Straight to the solar plexus. It was hard to fucking breathe when it shone in my direction.
“Can I help you unload everything?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Can I offer you some coffee? Iced?”
“That I’ll take.”
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Splash of cream.”
“I’ll be right back with that.”
She was, too. In a massive reusable cup with dinosaur-shaped ice cubes.
While I was gathering supplies, she clearly ran to the market, coming back with several reusable bags to, I presumed, make me a meal.
The promise of that kept me going even as the auger beat the shit out of muscles that hadn’t used one of the damn things in years.
It was a surprisingly cushy life, being an arms dealer. At least compared to the ass-breaking work I used to do from sunup to sundown.
Still, by the time the sun started to go down, I had all the posts placed with braces to keep them straight as the cement set.
“Sorry, she couldn’t wait,” Este called as her dog started to bark.
Turning, I saw her trying to keep the sturdy black-and-white dog in the front yard while she clearly wanted to come and inspect my presence more closely.
“It’s fine. Bring her on back.”
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea.” But Trix clearly had other plans, though. She eased up on the lead in an attempt to give Este a false sense of security. Then, as soon as there was a little slack in the lead, Trix charged forward, dragging Este with her.
“Trix, stop!” Este yelled, attempting to dig in her heels. But Trix was one determined dog, finally giving the leash too hard of a tug and making it slip out of Este’s grasp. “No!” Este yelled as the dog bounded toward me, barking maniacally.
“Trix, sit!” I called, tone brooking no argument. She didn’t sit right away. But she did stop charging. Her head cocked to the side, watching me. “Sit down,” I demanded again as Este ran up behind her dog to grab the leash.
“No way,” she said as the dog finally dropped her butt down to the ground. “I was sure she was going to go for your throat.”
“She probably would have if I were afraid. Here,” I said, reaching to take the leash from her hand. “Let’s walk. Get her used to me more so you don’t have to lock her up somewhere to eat.”
“About that?”
“Did it burn?” I asked. I had just enough self-control not to add While you were watching me from the window.
“No. I just really underestimated how long the potatoes were going to cook. So there’s a solid half an hour left. At least.”
“Perfect. We can walk Trix,” I said, noticing the way the dog kept glancing over at me, but the tension in her body was easing. “Then I can clean up a bit before. Got a change of clothes in the truck.”
“I have a newly painted and tiled bathroom just begging for someone to break it in. Though the water pressure in the house isn’t the best. And you have to promise not to judge the color too harshly. I got it for free, and I hate wasting anything.”
“What color is it?”
“The best way to describe it would be eggplant.”
“I think that could work in a house like this, though. The style kind of begs for bold colors.”
“I agree. It’s growing on me. I think with some art, it might be perfect. But I want your honest opinion.”
Once I got to see the work she’d done already to the living room and kitchen, I had no doubt that she’d pulled off the bathroom even before she was shoving towels at me and explaining that the hot and cold were somehow in reverse order.