Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
He sat her in her seat then went to the stage.
By the time he took off his jacket, got his guitar out, strummed a few chords to be sure it was in tune, and he looked at her again, the bag, scarf and jacket were gone, and he saw her dress was sleeveless and had tiny little ruffles around the sleeve holes.
Shit, she was something.
And shit yeah, this was risky.
But he was going to go all out so she could live her life like she did yesterday, discussing caramel apples and ignoring her friend’s pointed looks and cheering a guy who was shooting hoops like she had skin in the game.
Yeah.
That was what he was gonna do.
SIXTEEN
Artist’s Choice
Hutch
He’d already fucked it.
He’d pushed it too far when he’d sung until his voice got raspy, and instead of taking a break and getting some water, he’d looked to Mabel, who’d barely taken her eyes off him since he strummed his first chord, something that felt far too good for his peace of mind, and said into the microphone, “Babe, bring me your beer.”
Everyone watched as she startled, then slowly got up, taking her beer to him.
He took several sips while she gazed at him, not in shock, but like Hutch drinking from her glass was him eating her pussy.
He’d handed it back, and even if he knew he’d crossed the line, as she walked back to her chair, he said, “That’s Mabel, folks. She’s new to town.”
There was a collective, “Hi, Mabel!” to which she waved self-consciously, tucked her skirt under her ass and sat down.
He cooled it after that.
But he knew the damage was done with how quiet she was on the way back to her house.
That said, no one could mistake the message Hutch had been sending, and he hoped whatever grapevine Enstrom was invariably tapped into, that message was received.
They made her house, she turned to him and asked, “Do you want a nightcap or something?”
He shouldn’t, for her.
He still did.
“Sounds good,” he said.
They climbed out and she waited as he rounded his hood. They walked up to the porch together.
She unlocked the door and let them in, going first to a singing Tonks.
“Were you a good girl? You didn’t eat your sister, did you?” Mabel asked as she gave her dog a rubdown.
Tonks howled, which could mean anything, but Hutch spied Moxie sticking her head between the slats on the railing at the edge of Mabel’s loft, so all good.
“You want me to take her out?” he asked.
She turned to him. “Would you? I’ll pour. I have beer, but I don’t have bourbon.”
She remembered what he said he drank.
It hadn’t been ten years ago when he told her.
But she still remembered.
“Beer’s good,” he said, heading to the leash.
He and Tonks took a stroll. Tonks did her business. Hutch did a scan. Then they went back into the house.
The bag, scarf and jacket were gone, there was a beer in a pint glass on a coaster on the coffee table, and Mabel was sinking into the couch as they walked in.
He divested Tonks of her lead, and she galloped to Mabel.
It was then he noticed that Mabel had a TV over her fireplace.
He couldn’t say he’d hung with her in her place, but he’d never seen it on.
He took off his jacket, dropped it on the back of the couch, joined her and reached for his beer, asking, “You a big TV person?”
She swallowed the sip she was taking and turned to him. “Binge-watching and chill has its time and place.” She pointed to the couch. “That place would be here. But…not really. It’s usually only when I’m really run-down and need to recharge doing something that requires zero thinking.” She gave him a half smile. “Most TV requires zero thinking.”
“I hear that,” he said into his glass.
“Not a TV fan?”
“Don’t own one.”
Her head tipped to the side. “You don’t own a TV?”
Surprise, but not incredulity.
Interest, but not judgement.
Yeah.
Not like any woman he’d met.
“I’ve got my dogs. I’ve got books. I’ve got my guitar. You erase the time of day you’re zoning out in front of that screen, or any screen, you suddenly have time to get your laundry done, your marketing done, emails answered, taxes filed, house cleaned or spend time with people who matter doing shit that feeds you.” He examined her face and finished, “I think you’re with me.”
He said that last because he just noticed she was the same.
Sourdough bread and a workshop twenty yards from her front door.
“Yeah,” she whispered, staring at him.
Tonks, as was Tonks’s wont, was hanging with Mabel, so when Moxie showed, she jumped into his lap.
“You don’t have to—” she began.
But he’d already started petting. “Won’t shock you when I say, I like animals, babe.”
A small smile played at her pretty mouth. “Right.”