Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“It’s good for outdoor projects too. So we’ll go with that.”
“Great.”
“We’ll go after breakfast.”
I nodded and he sat back. “So I assume since I’m building your herb garden box, you’ll be making that breakfast, Pixie?”
I stood and pressed a kiss to his teasing mouth.
“I guess so.”
I was excited as we parked outside the huge building. Thorne rolled his eyes at my obvious glee but refrained from saying anything. I was sure he was saving it all up for later.
He took some sort of monster contraption to hold the wood we needed, and I grabbed a cart. I quickly realized we were two different types of shoppers. I stopped every few feet, picking up totes or a cool-looking tool. Even a new vacuum seemed interesting. Thorne sighed several times as he had to stop, come back, and pull me along, informing me we were here for a purpose.
“Not a damn exploration,” he muttered.
I stuck out my tongue at him, then hoped he hadn’t noticed.
Dutifully, I stood beside him, growing bored as he lifted pieces of lumber, eyeing them for straight lines, muttering about number eight or ten screws, dowels, glue, and the right footings so the wood wouldn’t rot as quickly. When a customer service person came out, I decided I was done.
“I’m going to look at plants,” I informed him.
“Okay,” he murmured, already discussing the merits of the liners he wanted to install. I had no idea there were that many decisions to be made.
I almost danced with delight in the garden center. The plants I wanted to look at were there, but there was so much more. Garden art, metal sculptures, urns, baskets, and all sorts of cool items caught my eye.
I added a gorgeous set of metal butterflies to my cart, thinking how lovely they would look hanging by the front door. I found a pretty new outdoor rug for the back deck. A colorful welcome mat for the front door. A fabulous double shepherd’s hook for baskets. Baskets I would plant with flowers. Pretty garden flags that would look so cheerful fluttering in the wind.
I stopped by a pair of urns I loved. They were tall, shaped like a tulip, and would look amazing by the front steps. I paused, knowing Thorne wouldn’t want one on his side. But if I planted it and put it there, he’d love it once he saw it. I’d water it.
I bent to pick one up, surprised at how heavy it was. There was no way I could load it in the cart. I spied a rolling flatbed and ran over, grabbing it. It was a struggle to get the urn onto it, but I did it. I was just about to attempt the second one when Thorne appeared, scowling and looking grumpy.
“What the hell are you doing?” he whisper-yelled at me.
“Oh good. You’re here. Can you lift this onto the flatbed?”
“I can—but I won’t.”
“Why not?”
He looked askance. “We’re here for wood and plants, Casey. Not vacuums, totes, and especially not those.” He indicated the urns with a flick of his hand. “And what the fuck is all that shit?” he growled, looking at my cart.
“Stuff I need.”
“Shit you don’t need.” He pulled out the butterfly sculpture, holding it up, one eyebrow raised in question.
“It’s for by the front door.”
“No.” He put it on the shelf. Then he took out the shepherd hook.
“For baskets.”
“Not happening.” He looked in the cart. “What is the rug for?”
“It feels nice on a hot summer day under your feet.”
“So does warm wood.” He poked around. “Flags? Why do you need flags?”
“They’re pretty.”
He groaned, then he lifted a box. “A spinner?”
“It helps keep bugs away from the plants,” I lied.
He rolled his eyes and slid it back onto the shelf.
“Where are the plants you were supposed to be getting?”
“I haven’t gotten there yet.” I frowned. “I suppose you’ll say no to a fountain?”
He leaned close. “No fountains. No sculptures. No urns.”
I slammed my hands on my hips. “I’m not moving without them.”
“Fine. Have it your way.”
And once again, I found myself over his shoulder.
JESSE
Good God, the woman knew how to push my buttons.
She gasped as I flung her over my shoulder, carrying her out of the garden center.
“Let me down,” she demanded, smacking my back.
“No. You’re going to the truck.”
“I didn’t get my plants!”
“Because you were too busy picking up shit,” I snarled.
“It’s not shit! It’s decorations!”
“Same thing.”
I passed a man who laughed as he saw Casey over my shoulder. “I got one of them too,” he chuckled. “Gotta drag her out of the place before she breaks the bank.”
Casey huffed and grabbed at my ass. At the truck, I slid her down my torso, stepping back and waiting for the explosion. It didn’t take long.
“How dare you drag me from the store like a…a toddler having a tantrum,” she seethed. “If I want urns and baskets, I can have them. I’m not spending your money. I’m spending mine, you dipshit.”