Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Her eyes flicker with admiration. “Wow. That’s awesome. You were always good with your hands.” I see the second she realizes what she said. Her cheeks flush, and she sucks in that damn bottom lip. “How—how long have you been out here?”
“About a year and a half.”
There it is again. Her mind is working. She’s calculating. I notice the second she comes to the conclusion. A year and a half ago, she sent me a message telling me to leave her alone. That she would never give me the time of day again and that we were done.
“Oh. . . well, that’s great.”
I don’t say anything more, give her my back, and tend to the food. “So, how about you? How’s life been for you?”
“Me? Um, pretty boring.”
I make two plates and set one in front of her. “Cal, if there’s one thing you’ve never been, it’s boring.” Her eyes glaze over, and I’m thankful for the counter between us so she doesn’t notice my dick twitch through my jeans. “Okay, simple questions. How’s work? You still at Millbrook Marketing?”
Another look I know well. Sadness. “No. I, uh. . . lost my job there. You kind of had to show up and be present. I didn’t do either, so they fired me. But it’s okay. I really didn’t like it there anyway.”
“You loved it there, Cal.”
“Well, things in my life weren’t really great at the time, and I was struggling to get up in the morning. Show up, ya know.” There’s pain in her voice. Regret. I even sense some anger. I know I shouldn’t ask, but I do.
“How long ago?”
“Wanna take a guess?” she asks. She doesn’t allow me to, even though I can probably guess the exact time. “Anywho, it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Since I didn’t have a job, I couldn’t pay my bills, so Ashley took one for the team and moved in with me to help pay rent until I got back on my feet. Remember Mrs. Carlson?”
“Your eighty-year-old neighbor?”
“Don’t forget nosy. One minute, you were there. The next, Ashley was. I’d come back from a run one morning, and she walked up to me, hugged me, and told me that ‘love is love’ and was glad to see me happy again.
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah. Apparently, she thought I ditched you for Ashley. She was giving me her approval.”
“Jesus.” I laugh, taking a sip of coffee. “And did you?” I ask, like a fucking asshole.
“I mean, Ashley’s hot and all, but I’m as straight as an arrow—well, minus that one time in college.”
My brows rise at that comment. “Care to explain?”
Shaking her head, she places a slice of bacon in her mouth. “Nope. That story will go to the grave. Only me and Tracy McGregor will know what happened that night.”
At that, I let off a low chuckle. “Wow, and here I thought I knew everything about you.”
Callie wiggles her brow, taking another bite. “Oh, there are many secrets you don’t know.” The comment falls off her tongue, but her face shows instant regret. “I didn’t mean like that—I just meant—”
“Finish your food. I’m going to cut wood. The weather’s supposed to get bad again later.” I put my mug into the sink, shove my feet into my boots, and storm out into the cold.
I don’t bother with a jacket. My blood, now boiling, fuels enough heat to keep me warm. I grab the ax and a log of wood, place it, slam into it, and slice the wood in two. One after another, I chop wood, but no matter how much I destroy, it doesn’t ease my anger. She had secrets, all right. One being the real reason she wanted me out of her life. Because she had already replaced me.
Sweat builds on my forehead. Swing after swing, I replay that day in my mind. Them together. It was not just her betraying me; he did, too.
Swing, chop. Replace. Swing. Chop. Replace—
A scream echoes from inside the cabin. I drop the ax and run inside. Cal is no longer at the table. I race down the hall as another shriek comes from the bathroom. I thrust the door open and pull the shower curtain back. Callie screams and jumps into my arms. “What happened? What’s wrong?” I spit out.
“That thing! Look!” she cries and points to the drain. I follow her finger and see the scorpion circling the drain. I lean in with her still in my arms. She tightens her death grip around my neck. “Relax. I’m just going to shut the water off.”
“Don’t drop me!” she says, panicked.
“It’s just a scorpion. They come in through the drains. They’re harmless.”
“Bullshit! It has claws!”
My chest rumbles, and I take my boot and smash it. “There. Dead. You’re completely safe now.” Her death grip is starting to make breathing hard, yet I don’t tell her to ease up or put her down.