Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
It’s sad that the fact that he came through on his word shocks me. Men never follow through with promises like that.
“I’ll talk to you soon, Miss Clark.”
Or threats. I grin. It was more of a threat.
I wrestle with myself about how to feel about this situation. I know that sending a text is literally the least you should expect from someone . . . but I didn’t expect anything at all. And without giving him a star for effort, it’s still nice. He was nice.
What would I do with a nice guy?
I laugh, then put the phone back down and pick up another shirt. I’d do all sorts of not-nice things to that nice man.
My laughter grows louder, and I’m sad that Val isn’t here to appreciate that line.
I fold the rest of Ethan’s laundry, making quick work of the hoodies that are in the bottom of the basket. All the while, my mind sticks on Cole.
Not returning his text took a monumental amount of self-restraint. My phone’s been a rock in my pocket ever since yesterday, begging me to deal with it.
But I haven’t, and it’s almost been painful.
There’s no use in starting a conversation with Cole. Why bother? You go out on a date with someone to test the waters, to see if you’re compatible. Our compatibility simply doesn’t matter.
I want a man with a good LTR score—someone who exudes the potential for a long-term relationship. Anything else is a waste of time. And Cole Beck screams waste of time. He needs to stay firmly in the forbidden, red-flag territory.
Red flag one: by all accounts, he’s nearly perfect. Handsome, sexy, charming—he’s the whole package. Men like that get way too much attention to settle down. Are there exceptions? Probably. But I’ve never met one . . . and I have met Charlie, who was about an eight compared to Cole’s ten, and he strung me along for eleven months.
Red flag two: He got my number from a bet with his best friend. If that doesn’t scream emotional immaturity, I don’t know what does.
Red flag three: He’s a professional athlete, which still feels hard to believe. His definition of a “diamond” is probably much different, and much dirtier, than mine.
Red flag four: His life is based on the other side of the country. “I’m a California boy, lover of sunshine and salt water.” Ohio doesn’t have much sunshine and has no salt water. Plus, I’m not about to even entertain the idea of moving Ethan away from his father, even if Jared is invisible most of the time. My boy loves his dad.
I just need to delete that message and forget about Cole Beck.
I blow out a breath, my shoulders tired, and stack Ethan’s clothes back in the laundry basket. I swipe my phone off the sofa and start to shove it in my pocket. But before I can, it rings.
My heartbeat picks up as I answer it. “Hello?”
“Hey, Palm. You busy?”
“What’s wrong, Jared?”
He never calls unless something is askew. Ever. It’s one of the only reasons we’re able to coparent—our lives are absolutely separate, and we don’t talk unless we have to. There’s surprisingly very little we have to discuss.
My breath shakes as I exhale, mentally hurrying him along. The fact that he doesn’t sound panicked helps. But then I remember that he didn’t panic when I nearly sliced my finger off with a sewing machine either.
Come to think of it, maybe that was a sign.
“Jared?” I say again.
“Oh. Yeah. So, is there any way I can bring Ethan home? Or, even better, that you could meet me in town and take him?”
I stand still. “Why?”
“Well, Robbie needs a ride to Cleveland, and—”
“And you want to cut your weekend short with your son to take your friend to Cleveland?” I bark.
“Aw, Palm. Come on.”
I throw my free hand up in the air. “Jared. You haven’t seen Ethan in two weeks.”
“I know.”
“And you’re going to just shuttle him back home because Robbie needs a ride? What . . .”
I catch myself before I say what I’m thinking. I don’t ask him what kind of father pulls this shit because that would only add fuel to a fire already starting to burn.
I take a deep, cleansing breath and will the fury coursing through me to steady.
God, give me grace.
“Will you please reconsider?” I say as calmly as I can.
“Robbie doesn’t have anyone else.”
Either grace isn’t bestowed on me or it isn’t enough.
“So?” My voice rises. “Robbie’s probably heading there to do devious things anyway. You’ll spare him a headache. Also, your son wants to spend time with his father. He doesn’t have anyone else as his father either.”
“Look, I’ll pick Ethan up tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll go throw the ball around or something.”
I roll my eyes.
Jared sighs. He knows he’s full of shit too. “So, can you meet me or not?”