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)
Bud smiles from ear to ear. “Got it.”
Mom and I make our way to the exit.
A frog croaks when I pull the door open. Mom jumps, then laughs, before walking through the doorway. I pause and take a chance and look back at Palmer.
She’s watching me, and I love seeing her blush when I catch her. My insides still as our gazes lock together, and then, before I press my luck, I give her a nod and walk out.
Palmer is gorgeous and funny. There’s no doubt about that. But why am I so drawn to her?
I have no idea. But maybe, hopefully, I will have the opportunity to figure it out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
PALMER
I don’t know why I love this weather so much, but I do.” I pull the drawstrings of my sweatshirt, tugging the hood tighter against my head. “There’s just something so rejuvenating about the gray sky and bright sun—”
“And the way the cold and wet flares up your arthritis?” Kirk grins. “Getting old is for the birds.”
“Who are you kidding? You’re not old. You get around this bus yard better than anyone.”
He groans as he hops from the bottom bus step to the ground.
“Do you have the list?” I ask.
Kirk holds up the clipboard with the inventory list we’ve been building. It’s something we’ve done together every spring for the last ten years.
“Got it,” he says.
“Good. Do you remember the one time we left it wedged between a bus seat and the wall?”
He makes a pained face. “Good grief, yes, I do. How we ever found it without flashlights, I’ll never know.”
We start the long trek from the back of the bus yard to the offices at the front. Our boots slosh in the mud with every step.
“I’ve always had an affinity for this time of year, even if it hurts me,” he says, hunkering his shoulders against the wind. “My mother and I used to sit in front of the fire and plan her gardens in March. She’d get so excited, almost giddy. I found her so entertaining when she’d pull out her sketchbook and make her seed list. She was like a little kid when it came to growing things.”
“You know something? I don’t think I’ve grown a thing in my life.”
“You grew a child. That’s the hardest thing in the world that there is to grow.”
“Good point, sir.”
The apples of his cheeks are rosy as he grins. “Thinking that’s working out better for you than that aloe vera you tried to keep alive when you started for me.”
“I forgot about that.” I laugh at the memory of that poor plant and my futile attempts to keep it from dying. “What happened to that thing?”
“I think Burt took it home to his wife.”
Poor lady. She had to deal with a struggling plant and Burt. Each is as prickly as the other.
I pause to work a boot out of a particularly thick vein of mud. As I free it from the hole, I look around.
This part of the bus yard—the back corner of the ten acres—has always been my favorite. If it’s foggy, the elevation has a magical vibe. If it’s clear, you can see all the way to Forest Falls. I always feel a touch removed from the world when I’m here, and sometimes that’s what I need.
“Did I tell you that Ethan is starting baseball today?” I ask Kirk as I catch up with him.
He chuckles. “Listen to all of that enthusiasm dripping from your voice.”
“Very funny.”
He shakes his head. “What spurred this, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve never had Ethan pegged to be a sports kind of guy.”
I can’t discount this observation. I’m not sure Ethan would either. This proves two things. One, Jared doesn’t know his son very well, and two, he doesn’t respect me even a little bit. Otherwise, he would’ve had a conversation with me about baseball before signing him up.
Ugh.
“Jared signed him up,” I say with a shrug. “I’m sure you guessed that.”
“I did.”
“I don’t know what to think about it, really. I mean, it’s good for Ethan to get away from his video games and get some fresh air. And I love the teamwork aspect of it because he’s an only child.”
Kirk laughs. “As the father of three children, having siblings does not mean you learn teamwork. Just manipulation.”
I grin at him.
“What’s your holdup?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you said you didn’t know what to think about it. What is the other side of the coin, so to speak?”
I blow out a breath and watch the heat billow from my mouth.
There is something about the baseball situation that feels off in my stomach. I can’t explain it to myself, let alone to Kirk.
Jared doing anything that can remotely be described as parenting is so unusual. But baseball? Jared didn’t even play baseball, so it’s not a “my kid has to do what I did” kind of thing—not that Jared cares about that anyway. I’m happy when he remembers he has a kid.