Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I intend to find out more about that as soon as I have cell service again.
As I turn into Melissa’s subdivision on the other side of Harmony Creek, I glance down at my cell in the cupholder, but there’s still not a bar in sight.
“Do you usually get service out here?” I ask, earning a sigh from Melissa.
“Usually, but I’m not getting a signal, either. My text to my mom just bounced. The storm must have damaged one of the towers or something.” She leans forward, peering through the driving rain as we cross the bridge. “And I’m betting this bridge will be underwater by tomorrow morning.” She shifts her focus my way. “You should just drop me off and head to your grandmother’s house. You don’t want to get trapped out here.”
“I won’t get trapped,” I assure her. “That’s why I rented a truck with tires as tall as I am. I wanted to be prepared for high water.”
She grunts. “Here I thought you were just a monster truck fan.”
“Not even a little bit.”
She sits back in her seat, her arms crossed. “Well, even monster trucks can get into trouble if the flooding gets bad enough. I still think you should leave. I don’t need protection. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.”
“I know you said you wouldn’t feed me, but would it be okay if I made a sandwich or something?” I ask, refusing to engage with her on the subject of me leaving her alone. It’s not going to happen, no matter what she says. Gram didn’t raise me to leave a woman who’s just been attacked alone at her house all night while the man who attacked her is still at large. I won’t feel good about leaving her tomorrow morning, either, but hopefully in the light of day, she’ll see that calling the police is a good idea. “The plane food was disgusting.”
“No, you can’t make a sandwich,” she says, motioning to the road ahead. “There, the house with the caboose mailbox.”
“That’s cool,” I say as I turn in.
“Chase loves trains,” she says, a sadness in her voice that wasn’t there before. But she’s back to withering disdain again when she adds, “I have smoked duck that I need to use before it goes bad. I’ll make crispy smoked duck tortillas and a side salad. If you’re still hungry after, I have popcorn and chips in the pantry. We’re not a sandwich kind of house. Lunch meat kills.”
“Lunch meat kills,” I echo as I pull into the empty space in front of her closed garage door “Really?”
“You think something with that much sodium and additive crap is good for you?” She huffs. “You might as well give butt cancer a hand-written, engraved invitation.”
I shut off the engine with a smile. “I’m touched that you’re worried about my butt.”
“You wish. You and your butt can eat pure MSG for all I care, you’re just not going to find it at my house.” She reaches for the door handle. “Give me a second and I’ll open the garage, so your shit doesn’t get wet.”
She darts out into the rain, hurrying over to a keypad beside the garage and tapping in a few numbers. A beat later, the garage door begins to slide up. Deciding not to draw attention to the fact that she’s proving to be a very sweet and thoughtful host, I grab my travel bag from the back seat and swing out after her, climbing the concrete steps into her home a few feet behind her.
“It’s a mess in here,” she says, lingering at the top of the steps with the door halfway open. “I’m not apologizing, I’m just letting you know not to expect much. I wasn’t planning on having company, and I haven’t had time to clean up since Chase left for Thanksgiving with his dad.”
“I’m not here to judge.” I kick off my shoes at the overflowing shoe rack inside and drop my bag beside it. “You should see my apartment. It’s a wreck most of the time, and I don’t even have a kid to use as an excuse.”
“He’s not an excuse,” she says over her shoulder, flicking on lights as she moves down the hall. “Toddlers are like tiny tornadoes, leaving wreckage in their wake wherever they go. I could spend the entire day cleaning up after him and there would still be toys on the floor when I put him to bed.”
“Good to know. I’ll remember that and cut myself some slack when I have kids.” I pause at the end of the hall, taking in the giant open room with a massive fireplace and seating area on one side and an equally massive dining table on the other. “I love this. It gives Brady Bunch vibes.”
“Thanks. It was built in the late sixties. I kept most things as they were, but I had to completely redo the kitchen,” she says, her brow furrowed. “You want kids? Really?”