Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Do you have my bill handy?” I ask, pulling out my wallet.
“I bet we do. Gimme a minute to sort through this stack.”
“You know, if you’d get online, this would be a lot easier.”
He snorts. “Not happening. We’ve made it fifty years without going online. I reckon we can go a few more.” He licks his finger and then pulls out a sheet. “Here you go. This one is yours.”
I take a look at it. If it were anywhere else, I’d go line by line. But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, Mr. Thomas is exactly right—to the penny.
“Looks good to me,” I say, signing the bottom. Then I hand him my credit card. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, Jay.”
He shoves my card into the machine, and I sit on one of the stools at the counter. If there’s another thing I’m sure of, it’s that Mr. Thomas will take forever to actually take my money. It’s the only bad thing about finding him at the desk and not his helper, Frank.
“Where’s Frank?” I ask.
“Ah, his wife’s gout is back. I told him to take the day off. I can handle it in here.”
I nod, watching him punch buttons, and then grow frustrated. You’ll get it. Keep trying.
My lips twitch as I remember the last time I said that—to Carter not more than twelve hours ago, when he came over to use my pumper.
“I can’t dribble, Jay. I’m not a good dribbler. Maybe I need more air,” he says, defeated.
“You’ll get it. Keep trying.”
It took everything I had not to ask him about his mother. I led him in that direction, hoping he’d offer up a nugget of information about what she was doing, but he didn’t. Instead, he told me all about his day at school, why Hayes is his new best friend, and how he really wants a dog but his mom said absolutely not.
I get up, too antsy to sit still. Mr. Thomas starts all over, so I wander around the store.
I should have talked myself out of this headspace by now. Three days without seeing Gabrielle should be long enough to remember that I’m better off alone. It should be enough time to convince myself that it was lust talking and not actual attraction.
She’s a single mom. How could I possibly be attracted to that again?
The chimes ring out, followed by the smacking of the sign. I look over my shoulder at the door and see Scottie. She finds me immediately and waves. After a quick chat with Mr. Thomas, she makes her way back to me.
“Looking for a new hose?” she asks.
“What?”
She points at the shelf behind me. “Hoses. Are you looking for a new hose?”
“Oh. No. I’m just killing time while he figures out how to take my payment. I keep a tab open here and pay him every Thursday.”
“I see. Where’s Frank?” she asks.
“Brenda has gout.”
“Ah.” She nods. “Got it.” She shuffles around, pretending to be interested in birdseed. “So what have you been up to lately? Anything fun happening on your end of the street?”
“No. What’s happening on yours?”
She rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what’s happening on mine. Your side is the interesting one.”
“How do you figure?”
“That’s what a little birdie told me.”
I smile. “Is that why you’re looking for birdseed?”
“What?”
I point at the shelf behind her. “Birdseed. Are you making friends with birds?”
She bursts out laughing, her cheeks turning pink. “Good one.”
“I try.” But I really don’t. I avoid interaction with Scottie and Della—with all the women I routinely encounter. Keeping them at arm’s length prevents them from poking around, from showing up on my doorstep with a casserole like Cricket did the day I moved in.
It saves me from winding up at their house, fixing their electricity, and fucking myself up.
“So the girls and I had dinner at Della’s last weekend, and I heard you and my new friend Gabby got acquainted.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “What do you think about your new neighbor?”
Internally, I groan.
This is the most I’ve ever talked to Scottie in the four years I’ve lived on Bittersweet Court. Why am I talking to her now?
“I’m gonna head back up and get my receipt,” I say warily.
“Oh, come on, Jay. Gabby is beautiful. She’s single. You should totally make a move on that before someone else does.” She shrugs with a nonchalance that goes right through me. “She’s the new girl. As soon as word gets out that there’s an unattached hottie in town, she’ll have a line of men at her door.”
I’ll fight them all.
My teeth grind together as I stop myself from saying anything. This is none of my business.
So why does it feel a whole lot like my business? Why do I want to do wild things when I think about her with someone else?