Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Um,” I say, confused by his whole demeanor.
“I’m happy you came by,” he says, grabbing me in a hug, and I just look at Quinn. He lets me go and leans back, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m assuming you aren’t leaving town.”
“I,” I start to say when Quinn says, “She’s staying.”
“Good, I want to be the first one to offer you a job,” he says, and I open my mouth.
“Now, hold on just a minute,” Quinn says. “She has a job.”
Casey laughs and looks at me. “It can be part time, but I think that your skills can help us out.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I answer honestly, looking at Casey and then at Quinn. “I didn’t ever think …”
“Why don’t you come by on Monday and we can see what we can do?” Casey tells me, and all I can do is nod. Quinn takes me in his arms ’cause he knows I’m two seconds away from sobbing and blubbering in his father’s office.
“These are happy tears,” I tell Quinn and then look at Casey. “I’ve never had happy tears before.”
“I’m taking her home,” Quinn says. “And we aren’t coming out for the next two days,” he says, and I look down, feeling my cheeks heat.
Quinn puts me in the truck and then looks at me. “We just had our first-ever fight, so we have to make sure we get the making-up part perfect.”
“Such a perfectionist.” I shake my head, looking at him, and I don’t know what I did to be this lucky.
Chapter 33
Quinn
“Are you almost ready?” I look over at Willow as she stares at her clothes hanging in my closet. Well, our closet.
“Is this new?” She takes the shirt down off the rack and turns to me. “Like, did you buy this for me?”
I avoid her eyes and look away. “I don’t think so.”
“Quinn?” she calls my name, and I look over at her while I put on my T-shirt. “This is new, isn’t it? I’m not dreaming up things.”
“Okay, it could be new,” I say, shrugging. “My mother brought over some things she bought for you and …” She opens her mouth. “And I hung them up.”
“What?” she asks, shocked as she looks back at the racks. She has more clothes than she knows what to do with. She can go a full year, I think, without washing anything and still be okay. It’s my mother’s way of showing her how much she loves her. “When?”
“I don’t know, a couple of weeks ago,” I say the truth. “Or a couple of days ago.”
“Well, which is it?” she asks, and I walk to her and take her face in my hands. It’s been two months since she has officially decided to stay. Two months since she officially moved into my bedroom. Two months since she officially had not one but two jobs. Two months since she hung up the empty black bag in the closet.
“It could be both,” I say and bend down to kiss her. “Now, if you don’t hurry, we're going to be later again.” I slip my tongue into her mouth this time. “I’m not going to remind you what they thought we were doing.” I stop talking when her cheeks go a bright pink, similar to how they turned last Sunday.
“I can’t get dressed if you are all over me,” she says, and I laugh when she pushes me away from her. She grabs her jean shorts and slips them on her legs, and then puts on the new top she just found, tucking it in the front. She slips on her Converse shoes and then looks at me. “I’m done.”
We walk out of the house with her hand in mine, and when we pull up to the barbecue, there are no parking spaces left in the driveway. We park on the street, and again, she reaches for my hand. In the past two months, she’s come out of her shell. She kisses me more just because, she holds my hand even in the barn. But the best of all is she laughs and smiles all the time. All. The. Time. And it’s glorious.
Every single day, we make dinner side by side, both of us learning. Most of the stuff is edible, while some of it has to be trashed, and then we order pizza. “Do you want to take the horses out tonight?” She looks over at me. “After the barbecue.”
“That sounds like a perfect night,” I say, and we walk around the side of the house. The backyard is already packed with people.
“Oh, look who it is,” Reed says, smirking, with his best friend Christopher beside him. “Only ten minutes late this time,” he teases, and I’m about to push his shoulder when I hear my mother’s voice.