Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Don’t be too proud. Annie pushed me into it, but I’m glad too.” I released her hand. “I didn’t mean to ruin dinner.”
“You didn’t,” she insisted. “Thank you for telling me that. For being honest.”
I finished my burger, wiping my fingers on the napkin and topping up my water glass.
“I’ll just refill that,” Kassie said as she reached for the jug.
She grimaced a little as she stood, and I frowned in concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, but I noticed she rubbed the spot in the middle of her back as she waited for the water and ice to fill the jug. I had noticed the same action earlier when she was trying to start the motor on the lawn mower. A grimace of pain had crossed her face more than once.
“Did you hurt your back earlier?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, it’s an old injury,” she said quietly, setting the jug on the table and sitting back down. “It flares up every so often.”
“Old injury? Like something from when we were in school?” I tried to recall if she’d hurt herself during one of our gym classes or at some other time, but I couldn’t think of anything.
“No,” she replied, pushing her salad around on her plate and not looking at me. “It happened when I was living in Toronto.”
“When what happened?”
“I, ah, I fell backward into a chunk of concrete. I cracked a vertebra, and it took a long time to heal. It flares up every so often.”
“Jesus. How did that happen?”
“It was an accident,” she said briefly.
Somehow, I knew there was more to the story. I knew without a doubt this so-called accident had something to do with her leaving Toronto and coming home. But she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. She didn’t trust me—not that I could blame her. I had to earn that trust. And I intended to. No matter what it took to do so.
We finished dinner, and Kassie suggested dessert out on her little patio. She made coffee, and I carried out the tray with another one of her decadent pies added to it.
It was a great space, with a two-person hot tub in the corner, a table and a couple of chairs, plus a small outdoor love seat, a tall fence around it all for protection and privacy.
“I like this,” I said as I admired the potted plants that added a pop of color to the area.
“I thought eventually I might add a pool for renters in the backyard,” she explained. “I like to read in the shaded gazebo over there, but once I add the pool, I’ll probably put a gazebo roof here. Then I have my space, and they have theirs. I can use the pool when the place is empty too.”
“Great plan.”
She was very organized and thoughtful in her decisions. She always had been.
We sat down, and she cut me a piece of the delicious-looking dessert. I took a bite of the pie and groaned. “Good God, what is this?”
“Chocolate peanut butter pie,” she replied.
“This is crazy good.” I cut off another bite and chewed the rich filling, my taste buds singing in happiness. “Tell me more about how you started baking pies as a part-time gig.”
She laughed as she told me the story of meeting Quinn. Offering to bake the pies. Taking Quinn four different samples of her pies, including the chocolate peanut butter one I was currently enjoying. “John was there, and once he took a bite, he insisted she had to hire me. The rest is history.”
“I like this period in history,” I mumbled.
We were quiet for a moment, enjoying the peacefulness of the evening, the rich coffee, and the delicious dessert. Kassie shifted in her chair, and I noticed another grimace.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.
“I’m just a little stiff. No doubt from trying to start the lawn mower,” she said.
“I can cut the grass while I’m here,” I informed her.
“You’re the tenant, Oliver. It’s my responsibility to cut the grass. I’m looking to find a kid to do it for me, but unfortunately, this generation isn’t interested in cutting the grass the way you were.”
I sat back with a sigh, setting down my empty pie plate. “Yeah, the kids in LA aren’t into part-time manual labor jobs either. They want to be creative designers, post memes, monetize their pages, rather than look for odd jobs. At least the ones not looking to make it big in the industry.”
“Not a lot of kids looking to break into showbiz here,” she said dryly. “But not interested in cutting the grass either. They want to be TikTok sensations.”
I chuckled, looking up at the sky, thinking how bright the stars seemed here. “I suppose life was simpler back then.”
“I sort of miss it,” Kassie murmured.