Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
I take the whole thing back down the hallway to Lowyn, who is still busy making my button-down shirt presentable. Then I start my complaining. “I’m not the prodigal son.”
“It’s not really about you, Collin. It’s… it’s just a story.”
But she’s wrong. It is about me. “How can you say that with a straight face? You just told me that the story, up until this very morning, was about a boy who falls for a girl in Revenant. And now the whole story is”—I hold up the little booklet—“this!”
“You should read it. It’s got a good start.”
I growl a little, which makes Lowyn laugh. “Calm down, Collin. You’re a gangster looking for salvation. Just look at it that way for now.”
“For now?”
“Well, that’s hardly a prodigal son story, now is it? I don’t know what the writers have planned, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon.” She turns her little magic wand off and pats my arm. “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, it’ll all come to a head by Fourth of July and then the story will turn.”
“One season.” I grit these words through my teeth. “And then never again.”
She pats my bare chest, then presses her palm flat against it. Kinda takin’ my breath away for a moment. Kinda wiping my mind of all complaints, too. “Go put the costume on. It’s gonna be fine.”
I play those words over and over in my head as I get dressed in the bathroom. I think about how her hand felt against my bare chest too. I had a sudden urge to kiss her in that moment. But I can’t. Because we’ve had that opportunity a couple times now, and both times she was sending me signals that it’s not gonna happen.
Actually, she’s sending signals that it is gonna happen, but not yet. I have a feeling there’s something between us that must be dealt with before she will relent.
A feeling, Collin? Please. You walked out on her twelve years ago without an explanation. She wants a fuckin’ explanation.
Yes. This is what’s between us. She wants some truth from me. And she might steam the wrinkles out of my clothes and let me sleep in her house, but she’s not gonna invite me into her bed—or even let me get a teeny-tiny taste of those lips—until I… repent, for lack of a better word.
Actually, it’s an appropriate word. And while I by no means have been out in the world squandering my inheritance, I did go out there and leave this whole town behind, and then came back like it was no big deal.
And it was a big deal. A very big deal. If I want to live around here, I will have to repent. By playing my part in the story, by being security for the Revival, and by having an honest conversation with the woman I walked out on when she was just a girl.
Fine.
I come out of the bathroom and find Lowyn still in the laundry, steaming the wrinkles out of a silk tie. She smiles at me, then carefully lays the tie down on top of the washing machine and turns the steamer off.
I walk into the little room and she’s immediately reaching for the pearly-gray buttons on my unbuttoned shirt. Her fingers quickly and smoothly slide them into the little slits and she works her way up.
This simple act of buttoning up my shirt pretty much blows my mind in the best way possible. It feels very intimate for some reason. When she gets to the top button, she smiles at me and flips my collar up so she can feed the silk tie around my neck to form a perfect Windsor knot. She flips my collar down, straightens it out a little, and grins. “You have to roll up your sleeves.”
“Why?” This comes out without thinking. I’m still caught in the magic web she just wove all around me with her fingertips.
“Because that’s what it says.” She picks up a little pre-printed card that has been lying unnoticed by me on top of the washer. “This came in the package. ‘Shirt half tucked in, sleeves rolled up, tie in a Windsor knot.’”
I just stare down at her. Right into those blue eyes of hers. I want to slip my hands behind her thighs, lift her up and set her down on top of the washer. Then I want to open her knees, slide between her legs, and kiss her like I might never get the chance again. I want to put my hands on her face, and press my lips against hers, and taste her.
“Collin?”
I let out a breath and the fantasy goes with it. “Yeah.”
She’s holding up suspenders. “You have to put these on too.”
The braces are pinstripe gray with brown leather runner ends that button directly to the waistband of my trousers. I almost lose my breath when Lowyn slides the slim elastic over my shoulders and says, “Turn around.”