Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
"Are you parked near the curb or in the middle of the street? I can take a ride into town to haul it to my shop if you want."
Rye doesn't like the sound of that any more than I do as she protests, "Chase, stay with Maddie. There's already debris flying around from this storm. Something just crashed out there—"
"Don't worry about me, Rye," Chase tells her. "I'll take a look out back on my way to the main house. Inside the box is a two-way radio. The channels are set to the ones in the main house, just in case things get a bit sketchy out here. The main road is flooded, but we should be all right since we're about a mile off."
"And thankfully, we're uphill from there. Don't worry about the car, Chase. I'll take care of it as soon as I can. Thanks for coming out here and for bringing this," I tell him as I stoop down to grab the crate.
"Yeah, there's some other supplies and a bunch of food in case the power goes out. It's likely that we won't get flooded, but if we have to get out of here, we'll need some rowboats. Keep the channels open, and I'll keep y'all updated." He tips his head to both of us." You two, have a good night."
Once he leaves, I start unpacking the box. Rye doesn't let me do it alone.
"I can't believe you know Chase," she says. "I can picture the two of you running around in high school, leaving destruction and broken hearts trailing behind you."
"We kind of kept to ourselves. I ended up with my high school girlfriend, married her, and then we had Frankie. We were divorced two years later. Frankie's mom, Shelly, took off when Frankie was around two. It's been seven years now, and not a peep out of her."
The moment I feel Rye's hand stroking my shoulder, I'm reminded that I'm doing the exact opposite of what I should. I want to keep my guard up, but Rye has this unarming sincerity about her. She pulls this protective beast out of me, making me want to bring her home with Frankie and me. Rye makes me feel free to express all of my emotions. Passion and lust are fighting for the top spot.
"I'm sorry, Dallas. It's been about seven years since my mom died. I understand holding a spot for someone who's not coming back."
"Shelly's definitely not coming back, but I don't want to talk about that. How do you come up with such amazing ice cream flavors? I know Frankie's going to want one named after her." My eyes drift up, where my daughter is still sound asleep.
"I will try just about anything that pops into my head. I've done matcha green tea with a coconut cream swirl and white chocolate chips. It did very well at a pop-up shop in LA, but not so much out here. I can offer my more eccentric flavors as specialty, made-to-order items. I guess I'm not afraid to fail."
"How long have you had the ice cream shop?"
"About four years now. It was rough in the beginning, but I finally have a system that works. I have good employees and a strong town that loves homemade ice cream year-round."
I walk to the freezer and pull out a small pint-sized carton of peach cobbler ice cream.
"This one is my favorite. Who thinks of adding peach cobbler to ice cream?" I ask with a spoonful hovering above the container. I move toward Rye and hold the spoon out to her.
She wraps her lips around it and moans with delight. "I forgot how good that one is."
"I really like the s'mores one, too. That graham cracker swirl with the dark chocolate chips is amazing."
She snickers and goes into the freezer to pull out another container of ice cream. "You should get it at On the Rocks. My oldest sister, Mackenna, well, we call her Kennie. Anyway, she and the bartender, Dean, are an item. Kennie worked a deal out for the bar and my shop. So he combined this s'mores ice cream with some coconut rum and made a mudslide milkshake thing. He torches a marshmallow on top, and oh my God, it's to die for."
She scoops a spoonful out and offers it to me, which I take against my better judgment. Every minute we spend together is another minute I want to let Mariah in. She has such a delicate name, but I see strength and resilience as she talks about what she loves. It lets my imagination wander to a time in the future when her eyes light up the same way when she talks about us.
"Ice cream and rum sounds pretty damn good," I admit.
Rye reaches down into the box and pulls out a bottle of vodka. Both of our eyes light up as we head into the freezer to grab more cartons of ice cream. This day isn't going the way I planned, but I'm falling in love with the way it's ending.