Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 81584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I lay there, listening to Gray reading aloud, and the timbre of his voice lulled me to sleep.
When I woke hours later, the sun was setting, and Gray was no longer in bed with me. Stretching my legs, I looked around the minuscule bedroom. There were four books piled neatly on the bedside table. A photo of Gray’s family sat next to it. It looked like it was supposed to be a staged photograph by the way they were standing, but Gray’s dad Leo must’ve said something because he was smiling proudly while the others were caught mid-laugh. Harper was bent at the waist, Lily’s arm was splayed out like they’d caught her just before she’d smacked his chest, and Gray’s head was tipped back.
Hanging on one of the cupboards was a larger photo of a baby Gray held by a woman I didn’t recognize. She was wearing a polo with a little emblem that I couldn’t read because it was half hidden by baby Gray’s bare belly. His hands were gripping her cheeks as she grinned at him.
Something about her was familiar.
I climbed off the bed so I could see it better. I didn’t recognize her with a closer look, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d seen her somewhere before.
“I’m outside,” Gray called, startling me.
Shoving my feet into my shoes, I made my way toward the door. I’d joked that Gray’s room at the clubhouse looked like a serial killer’s, and he’d defended himself by saying he didn’t live there…but his camper wasn’t much better. There were few personal touches. A multicolored kitchen towel hanging from the tiny stove and a pillow that said Please Leave on the couch. I would’ve bet everything in my bank account the pillow was a gift from Harper.
“How you feelin’?” Gray asked as I stepped outside.
“Not terrible,” I replied. That was the best I could do.
“Fair enough. You hungry?”
“Why do you keep trying to feed me?” I asked as I walked toward him. He was standing next to a smoker on the far edge of the pop-up tent.
“It’s dinnertime.”
“Damn, I slept for a while.”
“You needed it.”
“Thanks for rescuing me again.”
“You didn’t need rescuin’,” he argued, looking me over. “Just a favor.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” I smiled. “What are you making?”
“Bacon.”
I waited.
“Just bacon?”
“I’ve got some eggs inside,” he replied, lifting the lid of the smoker.
“Breakfast for dinner. I like it.”
“Thought you might be hungry when you woke up. I don’t have much here.”
“So, you know what I said about serial killers?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
Gray laughed, shaking his head.
“I mean, come on. You have to admit this isn’t much better,” I continued as he chuckled.
“Don’t have a lot of space,” he explained, still smiling. “Add a bunch of shit, and it’ll just seem even smaller than it is.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that,” I conceded. “Why did you get a camper instead of just building a house?”
“Cost,” he replied, pulling a few of the bacon strips off the smoker. “To build a house you gotta dig a well and septic before you even start the build. Then the price of construction. I figured I’d stay out here a while first, make sure I liked the spot before I committed.”
“And?” I asked, taking a piece of bacon. “What’s the verdict?”
He nodded, his eyes on the smoker. “Probably build in the next few years.”
“I don’t think you could find a better piece of property,” I agreed, stepping out from under the tent to spin in a slow circle, taking in our surroundings. It was really beautiful. The land opposite the road dropped off, and you could see hills and valleys in the distance. The view was incredible.
“Now I just gotta find a house plan I like,” he said. “Haven’t found one yet.”
“Two stories,” I advised. “The master bedroom facing the drop-off, so you’ve got the view and the sunrise.”
He smiled.
“When you need help decorating the place, let me know,” I joked. “After shelling out all that money for the septic and whatever, you’re going to need my thrifting expertise.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied. “Come on, let’s eat.”
I followed him back into the trailer and realized I’d left my phone on his bed. As he set the plate of bacon on the table, I scooted past him and stretched out over the mattress to grab my phone from halfway beneath the pillows. I stuffed it in my pocket without looking and caught the photo I’d been looking at earlier out of the corner of my eye.
“Who’s this?” I asked, pointing to the photo.
He couldn’t see the photo from where he was standing, but since there were only two of them in the bedroom, I figured he’d know what I meant.
“My mother,” he replied, reaching up to grab a frying pan from the cupboard above the stove.
“What?” I looked back at the photo. “That’s not Lily.”