Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I put my coffee down on a plant saucer on the desk, then walked around to turn on the plant lights, flip the Open sign, unlock the door, then, finally, switch on the music.
“Yesss,” Traeger said as he came in from the back. His arms were up, his coffee cup waving in the air as he danced around to the Death Becomes Her musical soundtrack.
Traeg had been the only person in my life to know I’d named my dog after the nineties movie. Was Ernest the most interesting character in the movie? No. But he was the only real male lead.
Both Traeg and I had been thrilled when the musical came out and we could belt out the Tell Me, Ernest song to the very uninterested dog.
I was keeping it a secret, but I’d gotten us tickets to go see the Broadway musical for his birthday. After over a year of watching grainy videos online of it, we were finally going to get to see the real thing.
The morning was a little slow with a trickle of women coming in after the school drop-off. We had a big group of teens who talked about hand embroidery and crochet as they perused the plant selections, making me shoot Traeger a confused look.
“The kids, they be into granny hobbies now.”
“Kids,” I snorted. “You’re a kid.”
“And I do pottery,” he reminded me. “And make quilts in my spare time.”
“Fair enough.” I had one of his first quilts. It was a gorgeous, wild, chaotic thing that I loved because it reminded me so much of him.
“You can tell Glam-ma that I am almost done with hers,” he told me.
“She’s going to be so excited.”
I rang up a few succulents for one girl and a dramatic nerve plant that ‘fainted’ when it was thirsty for another girl.
The two of us watched them leave, then sat around for the next hour with nothing to do.
“You mind if I head back into the shed for a bit? You can text me if you get a rush.”
Unlikely.
I technically didn’t really even need an employee. I kind of just liked the company.
“Sure. Go ahead. Get that money.”
“Bag,” he corrected. “Get that bag.”
“Right. Get that bag,” I corrected.
Traeg wasn’t even that much younger than me, but I was losing track of the younger generation’s slang at an alarming rate. Hell, my grandmother had started incorporating the words into her daily language, and I needed to ask her what it meant.
The rest of the workday was our usual kind of busy. Meaning some people here or there. Many bought the cheap, common plants. But a few were local plant enthusiasts and picked up the pricier ones, keeping the store in the black as I did some little cleaning tasks around the store.
Finally, Ernest woke up, doing a stretch and giving me a yowl, like his patience had worn out.
“I know. You wanna go outside for a sniff?” I asked, leading him out the back door.
I went with him, glad for the setting sun and the slightly cooler evening air.
The light was still on in the studio, and I figured Traeger would be hard at work when I finally closed up and went home.
Ernest sniffed around the greenhouses, peed on random smells every five feet or so, then started to lazily dig at a soft patch of dirt on the ground.
Just for a moment, watching him, my heart felt light, content.
Then an engine idled.
Cut.
A door slammed.
And my heart dropped.
CHAPTER TWO
Kylo
“Listen, don’t tell on me, okay?” I asked the macaw as I passed him a piece of my breakfast danish.
Eddie wasn’t at his usual place at the kitchen island. No bacon scents filled the house. There were no stacks of golden pancakes.
A part of me was disappointed. The other part hoped Eddie found his “honey” finally and was at home making her a breakfast spread instead of us. He deserved that kind of happiness.
“No!” a woman squealed as bare feet slapped on the steps.
I turned, brow raised, as a shirtless woman came running into view, a big smile on her pretty face, her tits bouncing up and down, trying to outrun Caymen through the unfamiliar house in some sort of primal foreplay.
“Gotcha,” Caymen said, throwing the half-naked (save for a barely-there pair of purple and pink striped bikini bottoms) over his shoulder and landing a hard slap to her ass.
“Oh, nooo,” the woman cooed at him, feigning some helpless Southern belle’s breathy voice. “Don’t you dare take me back to your bedroom and ravage me!”
Their voices trailed back up the staircase as I leaned against the counter and let out a little chuckle.
While all the guys aged up eventually, met a woman, fell in love, and moved on, I had to say they were missing out on some wild stories.
Especially since the Cider brothers came to prospect. They filled the crazy hole left by Coast, who was busy playing the part of step and foster daddy with the love of his life.