Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“It’s no trouble.” He continued his confident march to the parking facility, leading me to a bright-orange midsize truck.
“And you’re okay driving one-handed?”
“Of course.” He gave me a withering look as he used his left hand to dig out his key fob. “My truck is automatic, so hopefully, shifting won’t be a hassle. Hurt a bit driving back from the mountain, but I managed. And I better figure it out because no way am I going six weeks without driving.”
“I might,” I admitted. I’d almost volunteered to help shift, but that sounded way too suggestive even in my brain. “I suck at anything left-handed.”
“Is that so?” Tate sounded more than a little flirty, but then he shivered and tugged his ski jacket closer. Maybe he was simply cold. Or something. People didn’t usually get flirty with me, hence looking on the Heart2Heart app for my soulmate. Before I could figure out Tate’s intent, he unlocked the truck. “Come on, get in.”
“This is definitely your vehicle.” I laughed as I glanced around. Of the two of us, I’d always been the neater one, using order in my room and belongings to mask the chaos of my home life. Tate, like his siblings, had done his share of chores, but his room had been comfortably messy. Likewise, his truck wasn’t filthy, but it featured a dog seat harness and open gym bag in the backseat, several hoodies next to the bag, and a few assorted energy drink cans on the floor.
“Yup.” Wincing slightly, Tate put the truck in gear. “Now, where to?”
“525-A Prospect Place. It’s downtown in an older home converted into a three-plex.” I reached for Tate’s navigation screen, but he waved my hand away.
“I know exactly where it is.” Tate was nothing if not confident, and I was rapidly discovering that I really liked seeing his tween cockiness translated into adult swagger. “I love that little street and all the historic homes.” He paused to wait for the gate to lift to let us out of the parking structure. “One of our senior paramedics lives on Prospect as well. That’s part of why we’re short-staffed right now. He’s on leave while his doctor husband battles cancer. It’s not looking good.”
“That’s terrible.” My stomach twisted. Hearing such grim news made my own search for a soulmate seem trivial.
“Yeah.” Tate nodded as we headed away from the hospital and toward the Mount Hope historic downtown. “My mom’s sent food a couple of times. I’d like to send them my famous brownies, but my studio apartment’s oven is teeny and unreliable.”
“I have a pretty big kitchen.” I tried to sound all casual and not like I was busy dreaming up more excuses to see Tate. “My unit is downstairs and includes the original living and kitchen area, so it’s pretty spacious. And if you’re going to help me with Clifford, the least I can offer is a loan of my oven sometime.”
“Nice.” We stopped for a red light, and he beamed at me as he flipped his turn signal. “Would you mind if we swung by my place first so I could grab Mouse?”
“Your dog?” I bit my lip. I wasn’t opposed to the request, but I was a bit confused. “You can just drop—”
“And let Clifford or you starve?” Tate scoffed, shaking his head. “Hardly. I want to help. I really do, but I don’t want to leave Mouse alone too long either.”
“Well, all right then.” I’d forgotten how easy it was to let Tate have his way. We might have been known as the TNT duo, but all our adventures had been Tate-initiated with me happily along for the ride.
“My studio is between here and your apartment anyway. My brother—you remember little Ricky—let the dog out a couple of hours ago, but it’s been a long day for my baby.”
“For all of us.” I agreed as Tate pulled into a newer apartment complex on the eastern edge of downtown. After parking, he was as fast as promised, darting into the building to return moments later with a small terrier with gray wiry hair, wide expressive eyes, and pointed ears tucked under one arm.
“Meet Mouse.” Tate buckled her into the dog seat harness, which let Mouse safely look out the window. Mouse didn’t bark at me, but she did give me a heck of a scowl, which made her look even more like her rodent namesake. “Hope she doesn’t upset your cat, but I can keep her on her harness.”
“Awww. She’s cute.” I smiled at the dog, who seemed in no hurry to warm up to me. “Clifford likes dogs, generally. He’s pretty fearless.”
“Mouse is not very brave, but she’s too standoffish and nervous to give chase to a cat. She’ll likely give Clifford a wide berth.”
“It’ll be fun to see how they both react,” I said as we continued our journey to Prospect Place, a treelined street a few hilly blocks beyond downtown. When I’d last lived in Mount Hope, I couldn’t fathom residing in this neighborhood of well-maintained, larger older homes, many of which had been turned into multi-dwelling units for young professionals eager to be within walking distance of the vibrant downtown coffee shops, eateries, and brew pubs. As a kid, the rural outskirts of town seemed the best I could do. When I found the listing for this apartment, I jumped at the chance to further distance myself from the past.