Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“Quinn said he’ll be joining us for supper tonight! He wisely brought along plenty for three,” she says as Tory walks to the kitchen.
I shake my head.
“Like hell you won’t,” Granny hisses. “If I have to eat that purple shit, so do you, son!”
“It can’t be that bad,” I whisper. “Pretty sure I’ve had it a time or two—”
“We’ll both find out tonight, won’t we?” Under her breath, she adds, “Jackass.”
I have to chuckle at her.
“Laugh it up now, barf later.” She yanks me inside. “Come have some coffee, though. Tory needs the company after the morning we’ve had.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“She’s just in a funk today,” Granny says with a sigh. “I’m sure it’s due to those calls from Chicago.”
Before we reach the kitchen, Tory, with Owl on her heels, steps into the hall.
“Quinn’s going to have coffee with us,” Granny says. “Fetch him an extra mug, please.”
“With you,” Tory says, stepping around us. “I have goats to round up.”
“I’m already wired for the day,” I tell Granny, pivoting on one heel to follow Tory.
“Is something wrong?” I ask once we’re outside.
She keeps walking toward Dean’s pickup without missing a beat.
“Nothing you should worry about, it’s just...it’s time for goat duty.”
“Big jobs?” I wonder, trying to pierce through this evasive mask she’s wearing.
“Bigger one this afternoon.” She stops at the truck and pulls open the door. “The morning should be light. I’m doing city hall and the police station. Don’t think there’s much to clean up there. I’m pretty sure they just want the goats around for publicity.”
She sounds weirdly despondent and looks like it, too.
“Need help?” I ask. “I’m pretty free today if you—”
“Owl does all the real work, you know, I just—” She throws her arms in the air, clearly annoyed. “I just open the trailer, talk to people, and sign papers. Easy work as long as I’m not late for it.”
I gently lay a hand on her shoulder.
“Tory. What’s going on?”
She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip.
Fuck.
“Listen. I didn’t mean to stir shit up by showing up on your doorstep. Thought you’d get a kick out of the eggplants.” I give her a lopsided grin, feeling like the world’s biggest dummy right now.
She sighs, glancing back at the house.
“Goats and eggplants. What a life.” She lets out a raw laugh. “Might as well add raining on everybody’s parades too.”
“What parades?”
She snaps her fingers at Owl, gesturing him to get in the truck. “Granny. She tried canceling an Alaskan cruise with her friends because I’m here. Tying her down.”
“When’s the cruise?”
“Next week.” She throws her purse in the truck and climbs inside. “But it’s all right. She’s still going, and I’ll be gone by then.”
My heart hits my gut like a falling stone.
“Gone? You mean you’re going home?” I try not to growl my words.
“Maybe. I’ve been offered a promotion of sorts...a new job. Dance director for the studio. They won a contest to host some prestigious dance groups from around the world. Pretty much the dream.” An oddly sad smile digs at her cheeks.
It doesn’t sound much like the dream to me.
Not with the way she’s acting.
Yet I have to admit, her leaving town would solve my issues, like it or lump it.
If she goes back to Chicago, I won’t have to worry about her getting caught up in my Pickett mess.
And without having to run around town checking up on her, maybe I’ll get my head screwed on straight. I’ll finally be distraction free to hunt down that maniac the second he arrives, and if I’m lucky, keep him locked up for good.
Yeah.
I should be fucking happy as a lark.
So why does it feel like I’ve just been sucker punched square in the gut?
Tory pulls the door shut without another word and starts the truck.
I’m well aware we’ve ignored the three ton elephant in the room—the glaring fact that I kissed Tory Three Names like I own her and she can’t make heads or tails of it any better than I can.
Ass, I think to myself.
I question if I should follow her, but it’s clear she doesn’t want that. Doesn’t want me around. Doesn’t want anything except space to think about her problems, one of which is me.
How did I fuck this up so bad? A friendship we’d just reignited.
A friendship I’ve treasured having in my life again.
However it happened, I know one thing—asking questions doesn’t help.
If I ever want to fix this, I need more, and not from Granny.
With my head messed up, I head over to Dean’s place.
I need an updated list of jobs where she’ll be delivering the goats, plus Dean might know more about that Chicago job she’s been offered.
He’s in his garage, assembling what looks like...bee boxes?
Christ.
“Hey, Dean, what do we have there?”
“Bee boxes,” he answers, just like I thought, while pointing his hammer at a book titled, Beekeepin’ for the Total Fool. “Honey’s the new gold. Did you know that? All natural. Healthy. Cheap to mass produce. People love it. You can even make pretty candles out of the wax!”