Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
I go about my business, working at lightning speed, and step out of the shower sopping wet. A quick look around, and I spot a clean towel. The fabric abrades my skin with how fast I’m going, but time is of the essence. I flip my head over once I’m done and wrap the towel around my head. I’ll get dressed, and by then, my hair will have dried enough to run a brush through it, put it up in some kind of twist, and pop a clip in it.
“What now?” I hear my phone ringing. Part of me is tempted to grab it. Except I can’t make the estimator wait. If he leaves before I get there, who knows how long it’ll take to get him back out there or to find another one? I gulp at the last option, fear taking hold as I rip my sundress off the hanger and shove my head through it. All I need to find is a pair of panties to slip on. The type of dresses I love have built-in shelf bras, and considering life didn’t go according to plan when it comes to children, my breasts still sit high and tight. I snatch a pair of panties, moving from one foot to the other, taking half the fabric of my dress with me as I pull them up. Now it’s time for hair. I move my head to the side, allowing the towel to fall off my head and land in a heap on the floor. I’ll pick it up on my way out. Hair first, makeup last. Oh, who am I kidding? There’s no time for mascara, let alone blush; a bare face will have to do.
My mother, God bless her soul, would tell me to at least put on moisturizer, except I haven’t looked at the clock, and I’m scared to. Instead, I brush my hair, yanking and pulling, ripping more out with how I’m handling it, and promise myself when I get back today, to do a better job.
“Yep, this is as good as it’s going to get,” I tell myself in the mirror. In a perfect world, I’d have taken a lot more time. You know, considering I felt more than I have from the stranger’s voice than I have in years. “Shut up.” I bend to pick up the towel, pulling my dress down while doing so, and hang it on the hook. I flip the switch, walk back into my bedroom, grab my purse, deposit my things in it, shove my feet in a cute pair of woven leather sandals, and move my ass.
I look down at my watch briefly as I shut the door to my room behind me, breathing a sigh of relief that I’ve somehow managed my time enough to grab a to-go cup of coffee and muffin. I hustle down the stairs staying laser-focused, my eyes on the prize in the form of carbs and caffeine.
“Good morning, Miss Skye,” the innkeeper greets me as I land on the bottom floor.
“Good morning. I’m going to grab something quickly and head out the door.” I point to the room where they keep snacks and drinks during the day but breakfast in the morning. “My appointment suddenly moved up and, well, I slept later than normal.” I feel like I need to explain myself. He nods in understanding; a sense of relief rushes through me. I’ve lived in enough small towns with the way we traveled around for Dad’s jobs that I know people talk, the perks of being a military brat. When Dad became an even bigger deal, I’d really had to home in on being polite, never wanting my behavior to fall back on my father’s shoulders. My parents never made me feel like I had to, except I watched other children when we had to attend certain events, and I learned from them.
I’m able to grab a blueberry muffin and stuff it in my purse, and a few steps later, I have my coffee cup secured with a lid. The doctored version I’d have in the luxury of my home is different when there’s only half and half and sugar or an artificial sweetener available. I opted for the cream and sugar, making do with what’s available. I’ll find the time to pick up a few things at the grocery store later today.
“Bye, Mr. Gus.” I wave as I head for the door.
“See you soon, Miss. Skye.” Gus and his wife, Nora, have been the greatest. She’s not around this morning, but she was last night when I came in for the night. I’d wondered how they make it work, having a marriage, owning a business, and working opposite hours, yet somehow, they have. I don’t have time to do much more thinking. I’ve got a house to get to, and turning it into a home is my top priority. With that thought in mind, I unlock my car door, climb inside, and start the engine. I’ll drink my coffee and munch on my muffin along the way, though now that I’ve had time to go over the phone call, a phone call that’s absolutely harmless yet has me wondering things I haven’t let myself think about, I’m reconsidering if I should touch my coffee or food.