Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
She can’t stay here, but as I watch Deputy Griffin side with her, I know I’m not getting out of this. I have a roommate for the next month. A very curvy roommate whose skin smells faintly of apples. Sweet, tart, tempting. It has me thinking all sorts of things, like what her lips might taste like.
I’m a washed up Marine. Put a weapon in my hands, and I know what to do. I’m a lumberjack. Put a chainsaw in my hands, and I’ll cut down the entire forest. But put a curvy little witch with her black cat in my cabin, and well, I still know what to do with my hands.
When he leaves, she scowls at me. She’s got straight black hair that barely dusts her shoulders with full, ruby lips that form a perfect pout and beautiful green eyes. The color of rain-soaked moss. A man could spend his whole life staring at her and never catalogue all of her beauty.
“You can stay. For now,” I grunt as I stomp past her onto the porch. I need to move, so I can clear my head. Everything is all scrambled in my brain when I’m standing there breathing in her scent and watching her stare at me with that cute little challenge-me expression on her face.
“I don’t need your permission,” she calls after me, irritation evident in her tone. As if she has any right to be annoyed. I didn’t show up in her home, looking delectable and acting as if I owned the place.
I snap a picture of her car before I leave. Not sure why I do. I think it’s what you’re supposed to do with out-of-towners and strangers who move into your place without notice.
Despite the setting sun, I start down the well-worn path that I walk when my head gets too busy. It’s always been a noisy place. Got even louder after I served overseas. Now there are sounds and images that play twenty-four hours a day. Movies of the worst moments of my life, reminding me I don’t deserve to be here.
Bella falls into step beside me, nudging my hand with her cold nose. I pause to give my tricolored girl some love. She’s a Bernese Mountain Dog that adopted me a few months ago. Not sure what she saw in me but she started coming around during the day. She’d been all skin and bones. I fed her some good food, and I guess we became friends.
She sleeps with me in the cabin at night but spends most of her time outdoors. When I work in the forest, she’ll often keep me company during the long hours.
“We got a new roommate,” I tell her, the cold air of early autumn burning my lungs. Left my jacket inside because I was eager to get away from that girl. “Two of them, I think. Can’t figure out where they came from for the life of me.”
Bella makes a noise, and that’s when it hits me. Maybe it’s my brother, Nate. Nate isn’t my biological brother. He’s another one of Emma May’s foster sons. She raised five boys and fostered countless others. Most people don’t know I’m back in town but Nate does and so does my other foster brother, Jasper.
Grabbing my phone, I call Nate. He answers on the fourth ring. “I’ve already donated to the police fund. I don’t need another cable subscription. I have no crushing debt that needs to be consolidated, and for the last time, I do not want to see pictures of your feet.”
“Sounds like you’re having a rough day,” I mutter and feel a twinge of guilt for never checking in with my family. Sure, I help them out behind-the-scenes in ways they don’t know about, like shoveling Emma May’s walk every winter and keeping her gutters cleaned out. But that’s not the same as being there for the people I care about.
“I put my name and number on one of those ad site thingies to get me a baker, and all I’m getting is these ridiculous calls,” he says. In the background, I can hear the soft bubble of pots on his stove boiling. He makes the best jam in three counties. Probably four if you count the unincorporated area of Mount Bliss.
An owl hoots in the distance, and I look up to see the moon peeking through the scraggly branches of trees that are losing their inhibitions and shedding their leaves. Autumn is when nature is unafraid of her nakedness.
“What do you mean?” I ask, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. A new possibility I hadn’t considered before starts to form in my mind.
“You do that thing where you go online and you put in your information. You’re looking for a baker or a—”