Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Because I have a huge chest of drawers in front of the door, as well as my entire book collection and anything else heavy enough to keep it closed.”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Move over,” I ordered, gesturing toward the window.
She shook her head. “Sorry, but no.”
Then she let the window drapes fall back into place, and didn’t answer again when I knocked.
And I did so for a very long time.
Instead of sitting outside her house, though, I decided to give Major a call back.
“What’s up?”
“Tomorrow, do you think you can send your son-in-law over to Birdee Calvert’s place and have him repair a door for me?” I asked.
“He’s busy tomorrow, but Koen just told me he can do it.” Major said. “But why?”
I sighed, then explained to him what had happened to her door.
“You left it broken like that for days?” he asked, sounding disappointed in me.
He couldn’t make me feel any worse, though.
I already felt like the lowest of lows.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s another thing. Do you think you can send one of the prospects that are at the club tonight and have them watch her place?”
Major grunted. “I’ll send Timmy.”
“Thanks,” I said.
I liked Timmy.
He was on the verge of getting his own patch and didn’t complain when he had to do something he didn’t want to.
“Tell him to park at Boone’s place. He can back into Boone’s driveway and keep an eye on Birdee’s front door,” I suggested.
Major said he would, then hung up.
Meanwhile, I stared at the door of Birdee’s house for another solid twenty minutes, hoping that she would take pity on me and let me in, but no such luck.
The window treatment didn’t even flicker, as if she’d written me off.
That only made me angrier.
I didn’t want to be like her stupid fuckin’ dad or sisters.
I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to be someone she trusted. I wanted to be more…
And wasn’t that the kicker?
I wanted more, and that was the first time in my life that I did.
I’d had flings when I was younger before shit went down with my mom and sister. I’d had a few flings since I’d gotten out of prison. But never in my life did I become so obsessed with a girl that she was always on my mind.
The drive home had my mind going a hundred different ways.
When I walked inside, it was to find Bernice on my couch with two blankets wrapped around her and the fire blazing.
“Cold?” I chuckled.
“Freezing,” she confirmed. “You don’t have a heater.”
“I have a heater.” I rolled my eyes. “But the pilot light must’ve gone out. Let me go get it going.”
I came back a few minutes later, changed out of my clothes, then headed back to the living room to ask Bernice what she wanted for dinner.
“I already ate a girl dinner,” she admitted. “I figured you’d be busy tonight.”
I wrinkled my nose. “She wouldn’t let me in.”
Bernice laughed. “Good. You need to work for it. Grovel.”
I ignored her and the way that her words made me feel and said, “What’s girl dinner?”
“To be specific?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“I had eighteen Cool Ranch Doritos. I had a scoop of ranch dip to dip my Doritos in. I had half a pack of blueberries. One stick of cheese. You’re out, by the way.” She smiled at me, knowing that I liked to have cheese in the lunches I’d packed. And obviously not giving a shit that she’d eaten the last one. “Then I rounded out the night with a bowl of Lucky Charms.”
I snorted. “That’s not dinner. That’s just a bunch of snacks. Unhealthy ones at that. You’ll be starving in another hour because all you did was eat a bunch of bullshit carbs that won’t get you anywhere.”
“Be that as it may.” She batted her eyelashes at me. Something she used to do when she knew she’d irritated me. “I still ate. Feel free to find yourself something.”
“I guess I’ll have to,” I muttered.
“What did you end up doing with that coffee this morning if you couldn’t find her?” Bernice asked.
“Tossed it.” I went to the fridge and took a look inside to browse my options. I could have ketchup and some odd-colored noodle-like thing that I was fairly sure used to be chow mein. I could have a sandwich with no cheese. Or I could have lettuce. “I need to go to the store.”
“How about when you do that, you bring back some chocolate chip cookies,” she suggested.
With not very many other options, I left again, heading straight to the grocery store that was right off the main drag.
I would pay twice as much since I was going local, but paying the twenty extra bucks sounded preferable to driving thirty minutes to Walmart. As it was, I’d been driving around all damn day. Driving to Walmart was not going to happen, despite it being the financially sound choice.