Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“You know I don’t think you need that, right?”
“I do, and I’m glad because more times than not, I’m too lazy to put on makeup. But I rarely ever see your mom and want to look good.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Okay. Because she cares and has never seen you without makeup. In fact, I don’t think you even wore makeup until college.”
“Part of that was because my dad wouldn’t let me wear makeup until I was fifteen, and then I was just really bad at doing it.” Chloe shrugs. “I’ve learned since then.”
“I still don’t think you need it.”
“Thank you. I’ve paid a lot for my face to look good.” She winks and then turns back to the mirror, finishing her makeup. We get ready together and then go back downstairs for coffee. The misty rain from last night has picked up speed, and we take our time drinking coffee on the screened-in porch, listening to the raindrops hitting the still surface of the lake.
“I could fall back asleep listening to this,” Chloe says, setting her mug on the coffee table in front of us. She bends her legs up and leans against me. “But I’m hungry, so we should go see your mom.” She looks up at me, smiling, and my heart jumps. Fuck, I love this woman.
“Let’s go,” I say and take another few minutes to get up, untangling myself from Chloe. We put our coffee mugs in the sink and head to the front door. Chloe gets an umbrella from the closet and opens it on the front porch. We huddle together and make a dash for the car. I hold the umbrella and open the passenger door for her, letting her in before going around and getting in myself.
“It’s supposed to storm all day,” Chloe says right as thunder rumbles in the distance. “Lovely weather, though I kind of like it. We don’t get too many thunderstorms in LA.”
“We get plenty in Chicago,” I tell her. “They come off the lake.”
“Along with that lake-effect snow.”
“You miss the seasons, admit it.”
“I do,” she agrees. “I love a white Christmas, though last year wasn’t it like forty degrees here?”
“I think so. I worked last Christmas. I don’t remember what the weather was like.”
“Oh, right. Emergencies don’t take a holiday.” Chloe turns up the heat as I back out of the driveway. “Is it sad to work on holidays?”
“Not really,” I say honestly. “Holidays don’t feel much different than any other day.”
“Now that is sad,” she quips. “I love holidays. My mom always did too. She’d say she’d take any excuse to get family together and celebrate anything, no matter how small. Halloween and Christmas are my favorite.”
“Rory showed me a photo of your house at Halloween,” I tell her. “It was a few years ago, and I felt like punching myself in the face when I saw it, because you looked so happy without me.”
“I think you meant that as a compliment?” She laughs. “And yes, I have a tendency to overdo it for Halloween. A few years ago, I over-themed my yard to look like a graveyard from my series and it kind of grew from there. Charles even dressed up like Marcus and helped pass out candy last year,” she says with a half-smile on her face. “I don’t get too many trick-or-treaters, though. Only those in my neighborhood who know about my over-the-top decorations. They don’t know who I am.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes,” she says definitely with a nod of her head. “It’s weird…I like writing and having people read my books, but I don’t like being noticed when I’m out. And it wasn’t an issue until…” She quickly shakes her head and waves her hand in the air. “It’s not important. I talk about myself too much.”
“Good thing I like you.”
“I am pretty interesting,” she says sarcastically.
“You are, though,” I counter.
“Please. I’m not saving lives like you are.”
“I don’t save everyone.” I mean to say it as stating a fact, but it’s a rather sobering moment for us. I turn on the radio, flipping to the one local station Silver Ridge has. They play only country music, not my genre of choice, yet the DJ has been the same guy—rocking the same mullet—since I was in high school. We ride the rest of the way to my parents’ house in comfortable silence, making small talk about something in the town every once in a while but just enjoying each other’s company for the most part.
“Is anyone home?” Chloe asks when we pull up.
“I’m not sure.” The house is dark and there are no cars in the driveway, though both my parents usually park in the garage. “I guess we’ll find out.” I get out first, opening the umbrella before I go around to Chloe’s side of the car, and we walk hand-in-hand up to the front door. Several cats hang out on the porch, taking shelter from the rain, and Chloe bends down to pet them as I ring the doorbell.