Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“So it’s not for fun?” Her smile is slight, but reassurance is found in the corners.
“I was forced into it.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been fucked up since the loss. I need to get my life back in order.”
She looks at the sleeve she’s attached to and then back at me. “Let me help you.” She never ceases to amaze me.
I take hold of the hem of her coat and gently tug. “You have amnesia, and you want to help me?”
“If I can, I will.” Her arms go wide when she says, “I’m healed, and it’s only a small pocket of time that I can’t remember.”
Small pocket of time. That weekend had my whole life wrapped up in it. But I know what she means and won’t hold it against her. I can’t.
“Please don’t treat me like a patient. I’ve been stuck in that role for years. I’m ready for change and to live my life again. That’s why I’m working again. And why I came out here. Do you still want me to stay?” Hope is clear as day in her hazel eyes, and I eat it up, savoring every taste I’m given.
“I want you to do what feels right for you.”
Her smile blossoms like a spring flower for me. “I can’t leave you out here to survive on chicken tenders from Maggie’s, though even as a chef, I have to admit they weren’t that bad.”
“I’m sure they aren’t as good as your chicken pesto.”
“They’re not. I’ll have to make it for you again sometime.” She’s got a spark that I can appreciate. What I don’t appreciate is her letting go of me and tucking her hands in her pockets. It’s cold, though, so I won’t hold it against her.
I look around the barn, kicking up some dirt and brush that has managed its way in. “What do you say? Do I make arrangements for you to get out of here, or do you want to see how fun being in the mountains with no electricity can be?”
“Well, when you put it like that, there’s really only one choice. B please.” I can’t find the lie in that answer, not when I have the wild times we shared in Austin playing on repeat in my memories.
Reaching up, I take hold of both sides of the pink hat and tug it closer over her ears to protect her. “There,” I say, admiring my band’s name so prominently displayed on her head. It’s a bold move, but from what I remember, she’s always been about spontaneity. “Come on, then. We need to prepare for a shutdown.” When I walk to the exit, I catch her right beside me out of the corner of my eye. Where she belongs. “I want to check another panel on the side of the house.”
“What’s it for?”
I smirk. “The hot tub.”
15
Poppy
Marina’s number sits on the screen, but I can’t bring myself to call her.
There’s so much I want to tell her and so many things I would love her advice on. But since we’re on the verge of losing electricity, I turn it off to save my battery, dedicating the next twenty-four hours or more to being alone with Laird.
It’s not a burden.
The connection with Laird is intense. It hit me sideways when I least expected it, a lot like our beginning the other night. I never would have thought the man who pretty much gave me a hard time about everything would also be the first person I’m attracted to in recent memory. Certainly well before the accident happened.
Sure, he knows how to look sexy cosplaying a lumberjack in the woods, but as comfortable as he is, I’m daydreaming about him on the beaches of San Diego. This place is fun for the weekend, a trip down memory lane, a quick escape if he wants to get out of LA but not have to catch a flight. Some people go to Palm Springs. He comes to Deer Lake.
We don’t know how long we’ll be stuck up here, but I sure hope I get to see that other side of him. The thought of him running around half naked on beaches instead of bundled up in flannel might have something to do with it. Though I can’t imagine him looking bad in anything, and I really want to see that tattoo again.
The lights flicker, causing me to sit up and release a dreaded sigh.
Laird was right about the generator going out. I look around the room and regret not grabbing a flashlight. Fortunately, the sun hasn’t fully set, so light still feeds through the trees. The bedroom is bathed in the perfect shade of golden peach sunlight, so I’m not stuck in the dark yet.
Ticking through my list of to-dos to make sure we’re prepared, I’m glad I researched to verify how to manage the food in the fridge. Keeping the door closed is key. It’s cold enough outside to keep some things fresh if we’re worried. If it can’t be saved, I’ll throw it away. We won’t starve. I bought plenty and whipped up a pasta dish for tonight, something easy to reheat near a fire or on the gas stove since we won’t be able to ignite the oven.