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)
It’s a question without an answer. A problem with no solution—none that are satisfying, anyway.
I’ve thought about fucking her. I’ve thought about just giving in and hoping I can make a one-night stand out of it. Maybe it would remove the intensity and let me think clearly.
But I haven’t because I know none of that is possible.
There would be no going back with Gabrielle Solomon. If I touched her, that would be it for me. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. It’s a fact. And with that comes a lot of heavy shit—opening a huge vulnerability that I’m determined to keep closed.
Alaska, here I come, I guess.
“That’s okay with you?” Scottie asks. “You won’t mind seeing her with someone else?”
I step back from her. “Why are you doing this? I haven’t said more than twenty words since we met. Why are you being so chatty now?”
“Because she’s my friend. And friends help each other out when they have an opportunity.”
“And you think this is helping her out?”
She smiles. “You’re a good guy, Jay Stetson. I’ve only met Gabby once, but she really impressed me. What’s wrong with hoping two good people get together?”
I lift a brow and head for the front of the store. “Leave Cupid’s work to Cupid, Scottie.”
“You’re no fun, Jay.”
That’s been said before.
Mr. Thomas hands me my card and receipt. I thank him and get out of the store and into my truck before I’m cornered by someone else.
The encounter with Scottie has left me sweating. Thinking about seeing another man walk out of Gabrielle’s house in the morning, like I see at Della’s, raises my blood pressure.
No one deserves Gabby. I’ve thought about that—endlessly. It’s kept me up at night, preoccupied my thoughts at breakfast, and followed me around the afternoons. It’s not even that I’m just attracted to her. It’s more than that. That more than that is what has kept me inside my own house. In my lane. Out of trouble.
There’s nobody good enough for her. Who is trustworthy enough to handle her sweet, trusting personality and feisty, hardheaded nature?
Who can be trusted to get Dylan through his rough years and to keep Carter from having a deflated basketball?
Not me. And not anyone I know.
Probably not anyone in the world.
But that won’t stop them from trying. And it probably won’t stop her from falling for one of them either.
I turn on the truck and pull onto the street. I consider stopping at Betty Lou’s for a piece of pie but think better of it. My mood is trash, and I don’t want to be a dick to anyone.
My phone rings, and I press a button on the steering wheel to answer it. “Hello?”
“What are you doing?” Lark asks.
“Driving home from the hardware store. What about you?”
“Driving from one farm to another. I hate it when it’s all wet like this. There’s mud up to my neck whenever I get out of my truck.”
“Change careers.”
“But I’m so good at what I do.”
“That’s what you keep telling me.”
He laughs. “I’m calling because I promised one of my customers that I’d visit his son’s new bar in Logan this weekend.”
I groan because I know where this is going, and I don’t feel like going to a bar right now.
“Listen, it’s a new place—Murray’s on State. He talked it up for half an hour. Then he bought a bunch of shit from me and kept telling me to go. So I said I would. And you’re going with me.”
“Yeah, about that. I don’t think I can.”
“You are.”
I blink. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re going with me. There’s no reason for you to sit all by yourself at home this weekend, thinking about Towel Girl and why you can’t have her.”
Fucker. “That’s not what I’ll be doing.”
“No, you won’t because you’ll be with me. I promised him I’d go, Jay. And you’re my only friend who isn’t married and not a total downer.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Besides, what else do you have to do?”
I flip on my turn signal and go down Bittersweet Court. “Oh, I can think of a million things I have to do.”
“Move them down the list.”
“I—”
“Don’t care, Jay. I don’t give a shit what you’re going to say. You’re coming with me to Murray’s tomorrow. I’ll text you with a time later.”
Sighing, I slow my speed as I near Gabrielle’s.
My heart picks up as I see her car in the driveway. The curtains are open, and Carter is on the porch, dribbling his basketball. He waves and gives me a big, lopsided smile.
I pull into my garage and turn off the engine, switching my phone to speaker. Instead of getting out, I sit in silence.
There’s not even a small part of me that feels like going out tomorrow night with Lark. But if I don’t, I’ll just sit here and ruminate.