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)
He looks around, frowning. “Where’s Mercy?”
“Oh, I let her outside. I told her to stay in the yard, and I watched for a few minutes to see if she would do that, and she did. So then I told her to sleep on the porch.”
He turns into the hallway to check on her, then comes back a moment later. “She’s still there.”
“Do you wanna come to work with me? It’s gonna be real boring. But if you don’t have anything to do, you’re welcome to hang out.”
“Amon and I are going into Revenant today. I think I’ll stop by the compound too. Check on my house and see how it’s coming.”
I smile at him, but inside I’m a little bit panicky. I like him here. And if his house is done, he won’t have a reason to stay.
“I’ll come by in the afternoon, though. On my way back from Revenant.” He walks over to me, slipping his hands around my waist, then leans in and kisses me on the neck. “Yesterday was fun.”
“It was.”
“But Jim Bob is up to something and I’m gonna need to figure out what it is.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“All right.” He pulls back a little. “I’ll let you get to work. See ya later.”
I grab my purse, kiss him on the cheek, and reluctantly leave.
I don’t usually drive to work, I walk. It’s only a couple blocks over. So five minutes later I’m there, greeting Rosie in all her classic Valerie Bertinelli circa 1976 glory. High-waisted bell bottoms, a tight cropped sweater in orange and yellow, and wooden clogs that make my feet hurt just looking at them.
“Wasn’t yesterday the best?” Rosie says, beaming a smile at me.
“I have to admit, it was a pretty fun time. But…” I frown here.
“But what? What do you possibly have to complain about?”
“What Jim Bob is up to, for one. He just had a change of heart?”
“You know how he is,” Rosie says. “When he thinks things are not going his way, he resorts to manipulation.”
“Obviously, but what is he doing with Collin? Why even bother winding him up like that on Saturday if he knew damn well that it wouldn’t even matter on Sunday?”
Rosie cocks her head at me. “Didn’t it matter?”
I let out a frustrated breath. “Rosie. If you know something—”
But that’s as far as I get. Because the bell over the front door rings and both she and I turn our heads to look in that direction.
“Ladies.” Jameson Grimm pretends to tip an imaginary hat.
I sigh again. He is the last person I want to see right now.
“Hi, Grimm.” Rosie chirps out her greeting to Grimm in the same bubbly tone she uses on everyone. “You should’ve danced with us yesterday. You should’ve scooted in and been partners with Bryn. That would’ve been fun.”
The funny thing is, Rosie really means this. She likes Grimm. Hell, I’m pretty sure everyone likes Grimm. Everyone but me. I don’t hate him, it’s just… he and I… we share secrets. And these secrets bond us in a way that might’ve been OK when it all started nine years ago—almost to the day, funnily enough—but is no longer OK now.
Grimm looks at me, probably picturing himself dancing in our group yesterday. Putting himself in Ethan’s place as Bryn’s partner. But then he kinda blinks his eyes and shakes his head a little, pulling himself back to reality. It’s his turn to sigh. “Rosie, do you mind giving me a moment with Lowyn?”
I put up a hand. “That’s OK, Rosie. We don’t need a moment. I’m real busy, Grimm. So whatever it is, it can wait.”
Grimm glances at Rosie with that look he gives, one eyebrow raised, but eyes kinda narrowed at the same time. It’s not a threatening look. He’s really not that kind of man. But it is a look that says, Don’t make me ask you twice. And it works, most of the time.
It works this time for sure. Because Rosie says, “I’m gonna go organize shit over there,” and then clops off in those clogs of hers.
As soon as she’s across the store, pretending to be busy flipping through cassette tapes over by the jukebox, I look Grimm in the eyes. “What do you want?”
“Why do you always talk to me that way?”
“What way, Grimm?” I ask this just to be difficult. And this is exactly what he’s referring to, so it comes out passive-aggressively bitchy.
“Look, I’m not tryin’ to be a dick. I’ve left you alone. I don’t interfere in your life—”
“Can you get to the point, please?”
He stares at me for a moment, like he’s runnin’ scenarios through his head. He blows out a breath. “OK. I’ll get to the point, I guess. But there are two of them so I would ask that you let me make both of them before you throw one of your Lowyn McBride tantrums and walk out.”