Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
She didn’t just take my beautiful daughter. She took away my future.
I shove my feet into my boots and head for the door.
Birds welcome me outside with a song. I pause on the porch and take a moment to focus, to center myself for the day ahead.
“I can be around her,” I say to myself. “Have fun with her. I just can’t cross a line.”
My stomach tightens and I know I’m right. I know I’ll stop before I cross a line. I don’t think I could cross it if I wanted to.
“Good thing I’m not paying you!”
I turn toward the sound of Gabrielle’s voice. She’s standing on the back deck, coffee in hand, with a pink bow wrapped around her ponytail.
This woman is going to be the death of me. “Why is that?”
“Because you’re late.”
I start across the lawn. “Traffic was a mess.”
She grins. “That’s what they all say. Want some coffee? The kids are at school today, so it’s not as hostile an environment as it was on Saturday.”
I hop onto the deck and jump to hold the door for her. She smiles, nodding appreciatively as she enters first.
“I’m not going to say Dylan and I are friends,” I say. “But I think we made headway.”
Gabrielle pours me a cup of coffee. “He didn’t say anything bad about you last night.” She hands me the mug. “I mean, he didn’t say anything good either. So take that for what it’s worth.”
I chuckle.
“Let me send this email, and then we can get started,” she says, sitting in front of her computer. “If this woman doesn’t name her twins Elodie and Ophelia, I’m going to die.”
“So people really pay you to name their kids.”
Her fingers fly across the keyboard. “They pay me to give them suggestions. It’s really hard naming kids.” She pauses to watch me over her shoulder. “Do you have any kids?”
I clear my throat and sit across from her. “No kids I’ve ever named.”
It’s a curious answer to an unwanted question. Why do these people keep harping on me having kids? First Carter, then Dylan, and now Gabrielle.
She pulls her brows together but goes back to typing. “Then you don’t know how hard it can be. And sometimes it becomes too emotional, and the parents argue. Getting a third party involved helps.” She hits “Enter” with a flourish. “There. Sent.”
Silence descends upon us. In any other time and place, I’d welcome it. There’s something great about being able to sit in the stillness with another person. But with this woman and her questions and innuendos, I’m better off filling the void.
“So what’s on the agenda today, Boss?” I ask.
“Ooh. I could get used to that.”
I look at her over my mug. “Don’t.”
She laughs. “I really don’t know where to start. There’s so much to do that I kind of just want to not do any of it today.”
“You tore the steps off your front porch.”
“So?”
“So? You can’t just leave it that way.”
She shrugs. “I mean, I could.” A grin slips across her face as she reads my annoyance.
This woman.
“I fixed the drain in the sink last night,” she says, closing her computer. “Do you know how to stop toilets from running?”
“Generally, you just adjust the float in the back. That is, unless the guts in the tank need replacing.”
She grimaces. “Toilets give me the ick. Could I fix it? I’m sure I could. But if you could fix it . . .” Her nose wrinkles like she’s bracing for me to say no.
I can’t tell her no. Case in point: I’m here. If I were able to resist her, I wouldn’t be standing in her house and on my way to fix her damn toilet.
Try harder, Stetson.
“Where’s it at?” I ask.
“Up the stairs. Second door on the right. It’s the boys’ bathroom, so be warned.”
We get up from the table and I start toward the steps. She doesn’t follow.
“Are you coming up with me?” I ask.
“I have something to finish down here. Then we can work outside.”
I shrug. “Fair enough.”
The stairs creak as I climb them, and the landing squeaks as I step onto it. There are two doors on my right, one at the end, and two on my left. As instructed, I enter the second one on my right.
The bathroom is small. Light-blue paint, the color of a baby bird egg, is on the walls. The shower is the color of mustard. I wonder how old that thing is. And the toilet, as promised, is running.
It takes all of a minute to make it stop. As I’m placing the lid back on, I hear Gabrielle shriek and a loud pop from downstairs. The power goes off at the same time.
Shit.
“Gabrielle?”
“Do not tell Cricket about this.”
I chuckle, shaking my head as I go back downstairs. “Don’t tell Cricket about what?”