Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“No, no.” She twisted to the side, sticking out her elbow to keep me from grabbing it. “I have some cold ones in the cooler.”
“I can do that.” Now Austin reached for the case.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just put these out there. It’s no problem.” She twisted the other way, trying to stick an elbow into Austin this time. She pushed past him, clearly intent on not accepting help from anyone.
“We’re going to have lamb, hon. I know you love lamb!” she called as she jiggled the beer around, trying to open the garage door.
“Here, please, let me help.” Austin met her at the door, opening it with one hand and reaching for the beer with the other.
I watched as he delicately pulled it from her hands with what I knew was a stupid grin on my face. Handsome, kind, and a gentleman. I’d chosen a winner.
Then my smile grew the second he stepped into the doorway of the garage and went completely rigid. He was seeing the garage for the first time, and there were no words. None at all.
I couldn’t wait to hear his thoughts!
Austin
Austin nearly dropped the beer when he saw what lay before him. Jess hadn’t at all prepared him for their house. In fact, she’d said very little and mostly just snickered. Now he saw why.
The garage was indescribable. Big enough for two cars side by side, with another in the back. He could see a car carcass on the right, near the garage door, but the rest of it was full of…stuff. Wall-to-wall…stuff. Heaps of it, piled in the carcass, in front of it, beside it. On racks near the ceiling, on shelves at the back, heaped on what might’ve been another non-functional vehicle on the other side. He couldn’t make sense of it.
“Just down there, next to the cooler. We’ll load them in when there’s more room.”
He paused as he stepped down the makeshift stairs—a couple of blocks of wood precariously nailed together. A large blue cooler sat on a concrete floor in front of…an engine of some sort, with shoes and boots heaped to the side. Other car parts were haphazardly piled on top and an old Jeep at the back of the garage with an unattached, crooked hood and no glass in the windshield. More stuff, like a rug, maybe, some boxes, and other debris littered the inside.
A small clearing beside it served as a walkway, and on the other end there was a large white refrigerator with an office-sized fridge next to it, sitting on some sort of box.
“The cooler…or the fridge?” Austin said, answered in a moment when the cooler lid creased open and she reached inside for a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon.
“The what?” Jess’s mom straightened up to see where he was looking, but his gaze had slipped back to the array of things, picking out deer antlers without heads from the tangled mess.
“Don’t mind all that.” Martha waved the stuff away. “Pete never gets rid of anything. He has more projects around this house than he knows what to do with. He keeps saying he’s going to get to them, but he’s retired now, and do you know what he does? Argues with people on YouTube. Here, just put that down here.”
She got out of the way so he could set the beer on the ground.
“Do the refrigerators not work?” he asked, unable to help his curiosity.
“That’s a freezer.” She pointed at the larger one. “This one works.” She shifted her point to the office-sized fridge. “But it’s already full of beer. Jessie’s brother, Chris, will be coming for Christmas, and he likes IPAs and other hard-to-drink stuff. We keep that in there.”
“Gotcha.” He put the beer down and grabbed out two cans from the cooler for him and Jess. Martha grabbed another, probably for Pete, and then headed back inside.
Austin gave a last look around, kind of in awe of the garage, really wanting a photo, before turning off the light and shutting the door behind him. Projects, indeed.
“Where was I?” Martha looked around the kitchen before popping her beer and taking a sip. Jimmy sat at a dining table beyond the island, eating the chips. Martha set the beer on the counter before moving to the other side of the kitchen, leaning over the island, and yelling, “Pete!” She shook her head. “I swear, he has the volume on everything turned up so high—Pete!”
Jess was watching Austin closely, a knowing grin on her face.
“Jessie, go say hi to your dad.” Martha turned and messed with the stove. “I’m just going to take this off the heat. Did you hear what we’re having?” She half turned to look at Jess behind her. “Lamb, your favorite.”
“It’s Chris’s favorite, Mom,” Jess responded as Austin went to stand beside her, noticing more piles of stuff on the edge of the counter next to the stove: a wallet held together with a rubber band, washers and electrical tape, various paper items… “I don’t like lamb, remember?”