Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Webber snorted. “You’re no fun.”
“Lottie is already keeping me on my toes,” I pointed out.
“You a handful, Lottie?” he teased, acting like he was about to drop her.
She laughed like a banshee and slapped her sticky fingers onto his throat, holding on for dear life, as if Webber would actually drop her.
“Go take your shower, man. I’ll stay until you’re done,” he offered.
I took him up on his offer.
I’d forgotten how fucking hard it was to shower with a toddler running around.
Lottie was even worse than Jett had been, in and out of damn near everything.
Though, I had found her off switch.
She was in love with The Lorax, and would sit still for a solid one hour and twenty-six minutes if I put it on for her.
That was usually what I did.
I’d put The Lorax on at night right before bed, giving me enough time to shower, feed her, shower her, do some laundry and anything else I needed to get done around the house without a tornado of terror running around behind me undoing it all.
I didn’t rush through my shower.
I basked in the warmth, letting the heat of the water soothe my aching muscles.
I wouldn’t say that run was hard, per se, but it wasn’t easy, either.
In fact, now that I wasn’t running, and the adrenaline was winding down, I was getting more tired by the second.
Though, it would also help to be able to eat.
I’d shared three-quarters of my waffle and half the spaghetti with my bottomless pit of a kid.
I’d never seen a kid eat as much as her.
Jett had been a boy, and twice as big as her, but Lottie could out-eat him twofold.
By the time I got out, I could hear conversation downstairs, letting me know that Sutton was done with her shower.
I got dressed in loose sweats and a t-shirt, stuffed my feet into socks, and headed downstairs.
When I got there it was to see Webber at my kitchen island, cooking.
I groaned. “I sure hope that you’re making enough for me, too.”
“It is your house. It only seems right,” Webber offered. “Did you know that Sutton here is moving to Dallas?”
My brows rose. “You are?”
She flushed. “I’m getting away from the ex. He can have that town. I’m spending the weekend searching for apartments.”
“I told her she should stay here.” Webber raised his brows at me.
This interfering big bastard.
“Oh, no.” Sutton shook her head while blurting, “I’ll find one here.”
“I told her that she would find a shit apartment here if she was looking for something in her price range.”
“What’s your price range?” I asked as I walked up to the counter and snatched a piece of bacon off the plate.
“Fifteen hundred is max. I’d like to keep it around twelve.” She sighed. “I have a job, and I can work as much as I want to, but usually my training schedule doesn’t really allot me the time that I would need to really hold down a nine-to-five.”
“Ask her what she does,” Webber suggested.
“The last time that I checked, you were in college and working at a nail salon.” I offered up what I knew.
“I’m still doing that. Though, it’s a little bit different now,” she admitted.
“Different how?” I wondered.
“Now, I own a mobile nail salon. I work on mostly dead customers.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I know, I know. It’s odd,” she agreed when she saw the look on my face. “But it’s a good business. I charge like two hundred and fifty dollars a client. The family usually calls me when they are in need of a service. I go into the funeral home, or wherever the dead client is, and I get it done. It happened by accident, really. Then I started poking around on social media, and it went viral. I have requests coming in from all over the country now.”
“Wow.” I chewed on the bacon. “So you’re going to move here and have no trouble finding clients?”
“I’ll go visit some of the funeral homes around here and give out my card. Then I’ll just let social media know I’m here, and hopefully that’s all I need to do.”
“You could technically pick up more clients if you need to,” I guessed. “Since you can make your own hours. But Webber’s right. You’re not going to find anything more than shit apartments here for that price. Unfortunately.” I looked over to Webber. “I have tons of extra rooms, and this seems to be the overflow house when people need places to stay. Have a buddy and his wife, Audric and Creole, who stay here on and off so they can spend time with Lottie. Lottie’s mom, Laney, died in a car accident. They were her best friends, and Audric raised her for the first two years of her life.”
I could tell by the look on her face that she wanted more, but that was something I tried not to talk about.