Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
I stand there for a second, staring at nothing.
Doug explodes, throwing his arms in the air.
“You turned her down?!” he shouts. “Are you serious?”
I sigh and head into the back. “Yeah.”
“Why?” Doug demands, following hot on my heels. “She was hot. She brought gifts. What more do you want, man?”
“Gifts?” Mason asks, perking up. “Anything to eat?”
“No,” Doug says. “Gardening tools.”
“Oh,” Mason says, sinking back down, looking disappointed.
My head is spinning. What more do I want? What is wrong with me?
She seemed perfectly nice. She looked like the kind of girl that I could bring home to my family. That my mom and sisters would like.
I just…
I don’t know.
Maybe I’ll know it when I see it.
Or maybe I’ll be single forever.
“There’s no way I’m going to be turning down the girls that come to me next month,” Doug says, shaking his head. “Mr. May is going to be doing it Duggystyle all month long.”
Mason snorts. “He thinks girls will be lining up for him.”
“My picture was hot,” Doug says, indignant.
“Who told you that?” Mason asks with a smirk. “Your mom?”
“She has good taste,” Doug says without a hint of irony.
The guys all laugh. Doug looks confused as usual.
“You’ll see,” Doug says, turning red. “The chicks will love me. I’m Mr. May.”
Mason grins. “Yeah. Mr. May-Need-to-Lower-Your-Expectations.”
“Mr. May-Contain-Traces-of-Delusion,” James says between punches on the heavy bag.
“Mr. May-Need-a-Restraining-Order,” Lincoln adds.
Colton chuckles. “Mr. May-Need-His-Freaking-Head-Checked.”
Doug scoffs. “Yeah, more like, Mr. May—” He looks up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything.
Footsteps echo on the metal stairs, saving Doug. Our Captain, Graham, comes down, all calm authority, eyes sweeping the room.
“Doug. Ethan. You’re on tonight.”
Doug’s jaw drops. “What? It’s Fight Night.”
Graham doesn’t blink. “It’s your turn to miss it.”
Doug deflates instantly. “I hate missing Fight Night.”
On the first Thursday of every month, The Cracked Barrel Saloon hosts Fight Night—bareknuckle fighting matches in the cage in the back of the bar. James is one of the stars, although he’s fighting less since he got together with the town librarian, Victoria.
I’m not sad to miss it. Violence is not really my thing.
Doug is already sulking as he digs into his wallet and shoves cash at Lincoln. “Put three hundred on James.”
Lincoln takes it and peels off the first couple of bills. “I get twenty-five percent for placing the bet.”
“What?!” Doug yells. “No you don’t!”
Lincoln shrugs. “House rules.”
“That’s not a house rule!”
“Just made one,” Lincoln says.
“With no vote?” Doug says, exasperated.
“Who votes that I should take twenty-five percent?” Lincoln says.
“Aye!” everyone shouts, except for Doug and Graham.
“Rule ratified,” Lincoln says, making a show of putting Doug’s money in his breast pocket.
“Damn,” Doug hisses under his breath.
I know the guys are just messing with him. Lincoln will place the full bet and Doug will win, because James never loses.
I take a deep breath and head for the stairs.
“Looks like it’s you and me tonight, big guy,” Doug calls after me. “Maybe we cruise around town with the lights on? Mr. April and Mr. May getting all the pussy.”
Mason grins. “Yeah, Mr. April and Mr. May-Need-Therapy.”
Lincoln snorts. “Mr. April and Mr. May-Be-Why-HR-Exists.”
They keep ribbing on him as I head up the stairs.
I just need some quiet.
I head up to the roof and take a deep breath of the cool mountain air as I look around at the stunning view. I love it up here. The Greene Mountains can’t be beat. It’s paradise.
The stunning peaks jut up into the sky all around me like they’re keeping us safe from the outside world. This beats any white-sand beach in my opinion.
Bubba—our firehouse pug—is laying in the sun beside my planters, snoring his head off. He whimpers in his sleep as I kneel beside him and sink my hands into the cool soil.
I love that smell. It grounds me instantly.
It always makes me feel like I’m back home in Oregon.
My family are all doctors. My parents and my three older sisters. All doctors.
I was always the odd one out. Sometimes I thought I must’ve been switched at birth.
But we always shared gardening. We always had that in common. Every weekend, we gardened together as a family.
The gardens back home on my parents’ property are massive. They’ve been featured in magazines. They’re incredible. My mother’s roses win awards every year.
That’s the one thing I miss about living over here. I miss gardening with them all.
But when I’m working in my garden up here on the roof, it feels like I’m right back there at home with them all, surrounded by all that love.
Bubba wakes himself up with a loud snore and lifts his head, looking confused.
“Good morning,” I say as I pluck a ripe cherry tomato off the plant.
Bubba waddles over and plops his heavy head on my thigh. He sniffs the tomato, then licks it.
I laugh and pet his head. “We’ll save that one for Doug.”