Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Okay. Thanks.”
“No. Thank you.” He reached over and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You did good today. I know it couldn’t have been easy, but you got him to come around, and that’s huge.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
“Me too.” He paused, like he had something else on his mind, but shook his head and said, “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Have a good night, and don’t forget to call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
I gave him a smile, then turned and started back down the hall. When I got to my car, I checked my phone, and as promised, Weston had sent the address to his place. I plugged it into my GPS, and I was on my way. Twenty minutes later, I was pulling up to the location and was surprised to find that it wasn’t an apartment or a condo. Instead, it was a beautiful Craftsman-style home that was nestled right in the center of the historic district.
It was absolutely stunning.
Intrigued, I grabbed my things from the back seat and headed up to the porch. The front door still had its original stained glass and opened into the living room. It was small but in a cozy sort of way. The furniture was masculine but comfortable. I continued into the house and entered the kitchen.
It was modern but still maintained the charm of the house, and the bedrooms were more of the same. They were simple, but with their built-in bookshelves and window seats, they were the perfect sanctuary.
It was hard to believe that Weston, Mr. Rough and Tough, lived in such a traditional home, but strangely enough, I think it suited him.
I carried my things into one of the guest bedrooms, and after I changed, I went to the living room and nestled up on the sofa. It felt strange to be in Weston’s home alone, and it seemed even more strange that I actually felt comfortable being there—like I’d been there many times before.
Me:
Your house is beautiful.
Weston:
Glad you approve.
Make yourself at home.
But no snooping.
Me:
Who? Me?
Weston:
Yes. You.
Me:
Okay. I’ll try to keep my snooping to a minimum.
Weston:
Somehow, I find that hard to believe.
Me:
Oh, hush. I’ll be good.
I’m glad you decided to go back to therapy.
Weston:
Should’ve been going.
Stupid not to.
Me:
You scared me.
Weston:
Sorry about that.
You caught me off guard.
Me:
I meant the wreck.
I thought
Weston:
You thought what?
Me:
I thought I’d lost you.
Weston:
Thought you’d be relieved to be rid of me.
Me:
You know better than that.
Weston:
I know a lot of things.
What you’re thinking has never been one of them.
Me:
Well, somebody has to keep you on your toes.
Memphis
She was flirting with me.
After months and months of her giving me the cold shoulder, she was actually flirting with me. I knew it was just a stupid ploy to get me out of my head, but that was something I needed more than I realized. I’d spent the last few days feeling like my world was crumbling around me. I’d all but given up hope, and then, she walked into the room, and it was like someone had breathed life back into me.
I wasn’t ready for that feeling to end, so, I played along.
Me:
You definitely do that.
Toni:
Well, you do the same to me.
Me:
You’re easy though.
Toni:
What?
Me:
See. Easy.
Toni:
I thought you were saying something else.
Me:
I know. Point made.
Toni:
Do you have to work at being such an ass or does it come naturally?
Me:
It’s all natural.
Born and bred.
Toni:
On that note, I’ll let you get some rest.
Me:
Oh, come on.
I was just fucking with you.
Toni:
You tend to do that a lot.
Me:
I can’t help it.
I like riling you up.
Toni:
Clearly.
Me:
I’ve ridden my Harley across 30 states.
Toni:
Okay.
Me:
I got in my first bar fight when I was fourteen.
My road name is Memphis.
Toni:
Fourteen? Seriously?
Me:
I don’t know.
Maybe.
Toni:
Wait-
Are you doing that game we played the night we met where we tell two
truths and a lie?
Me:
That’d be the one.
Toni:
I find it hard to believe that you were in a bar fight at fourteen.
Me:
I was actually twelve.
Toni:
Twelve? Are you kidding me?
Me:
Nope.
I got my ass kicked, but I put up a good fight.
Toni:
Wow.
Me:
Your turn.
Toni:
Wait-They call you Memphis?
Me:
They do.
Toni:
But why?
Me:
It started with the back and forth I had to do as a kid.
But the guys will tell you that it’s because that’s where I was
conceived.
Toni:
Okay then.
Either way, I like it. It kind of suits you.
Me:
It’s grown on me.
Now, quit stalling and let’s see what you got.
Toni-
Okay-
I was named after my Uncle Antonio.
I’ve never ridden a motorcycle.
When I was a kid, my nickname was Pudge.
Me:
Pudge?
Toni:
I was a little thick around the middle.
Me:
That’s hard to believe.
But it’s not your lie.
Toni:
No. It’s not.
Me:
The uncle thing sounds reasonable.
So, you’ve ridden before.
Toni:
Yes, but it was a lifetime ago.
Me:
Did you like it?
Toni:
Yes. As far as I can remember.
I was just a kid, and it was just around the block.
Maybe you could take me again sometime.
Me:
Maybe.
I think it’s time for me to crash.
I’m beat.
Toni:
I’m sorry.
I shouldn’t have said that.
Me:
Don’t sweat it.