Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
A vehicle coming up the driveway sends a rumble through the cabin. I rise and jog into the living room, peeking out the window and finding a big white truck parked next to my Jeep. Hartley hops out and waves at me as he approaches the porch.
“Okay, good luck with Margo,” I say, hoping to get off the call before she hears Hartley’s voice. “Call me later.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you.” My finger hovers over the red button to end the call. “Goodbye.” I tap my phone screen as Hartley knocks on the front door. Perfect timing. “Come in!”
The door squeaks, and then the sound of heavy boots pounds against the hardwood. He rounds the corner from the foyer but doesn’t venture any farther inside. He removes his cowboy hat and gloves with the same ease that I’ve come to expect from him.
“Good mornin’,” he says, smiling beneath his dark brown mustache. Dressed in jeans with a thick jacket and a flannel poking out of the bottom, he’s casual but still somehow perfectly put together. He’s handsome in the easiest way—like he doesn’t have to try.
“Is it still freezing out there?” I ask.
He shrugs as if he can’t tell the difference between a ten-degree day and a hundred-degree one. “It’s all right. Not as bad as last night, if that’s what you mean. Bet that was a fun drive from Nashville.”
“It sucked, actually.” I laugh, sitting on the sofa. “I should’ve waited to come today.”
“That’s what I thought you were doing. I was surprised to get Gray’s message last night that you were coming up in the storm.” He looks around, assessing the scene before him. “So how are you doing out here? I’m about to head to town to grab a couple of fence posts. Thought I’d come by and see if you need anything.”
I wrap my arms around my knees and pull them into me, curling back against the cushions. “Yeah, I do, but I think I want to venture into town myself later today and get a lay of the land, so to speak. It might be fun to poke around a grocery store for a change since I usually just have my groceries delivered in the city.”
“Sounds good to me.” He slides his hands back into his gloves. “Just a heads-up, though. Cutler’s Creek is flooded, so don’t try to make it to the highway. Just take Shoals Road, and it’ll drop you into the back end of town.”
“Shoals to Sugar Creek.” I nod. “Got it.”
He nods, too. “All right, then. If you change your mind, you have my number, right?”
“Yeah. Astrid programmed it into my phone herself.”
He chuckles as if that’s not hard for him to believe. “Cathy, my … what does Astrid call her? My domestic supervisor?” He shrugs helplessly. “Anyway, she helps me out around the house, and she’s there today. Feel free to swing by if anything comes up.”
Kindness shines in his eyes the way it always does, and I wish I were attracted to him. He’s sturdy and dependable, a hard worker and a family man. He’s the kind of man my parents would love to see me bring home. Which is probably why I’m not attracted to him.
“All right,” Hartley says, returning his hat to his head. “Have fun. You know where to find me.”
“Thanks again.”
He leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.
I sigh and return to the kitchen table. My movements awaken my computer, and my sights settle on the screen … and on my whimsy list.
The list began about six months ago, at the start of my existential crisis. I found the courage to tell my brother’s best friend that I had a crush on him. During a party, from across the room, I sent him a fairly explicit text that took me two weeks and Gianna’s help to craft. The response was humiliating.
Hey, Audrey. Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. LOL Look, you’re an amazing girl and so sweet. But I don’t think we’re really compatible like that. Sorry, babe.
Then he glanced up and winked at me like I was a pathetic little girl he pitied.
He’ll be the last man to make me feel so minimized.
After I cried my eyes out on the flight back to Nashville, heartbroken and defeated, I opened my laptop and started crafting a list.
Whimsy List
Stop being sweet.
Learn to flirt.
Get a tattoo.
Have a one-night stand.
ORGASM! (with a man)
Take a self-defense class.
Sleep in the dark without being scared.
Wear a bold lipstick.
Eat alone in public.
Do something spontaneous.
Buy more lingerie (and wear it daily).
Cut my hair.
Learn to be okay if others are disappointed (even if it’s in me).
The cursor blinks beneath the last bullet point, waiting for me to add to the collection. Instead, I sip my coffee and go over the list of things for the millionth time.