Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Please do. I hope I have made the deadline because I would like it to be in the next issue.”
Rosie unseals the envelope, pulls out the piece of notepaper, and gets a wild smile on her face as she reads.
When she looks back at me, I’m someone else.
Ijust stand there in my shop looking at Amon Parrish like he is a stranger. Well, that’s not actually right. I look at Amon Parrish like I’m seeing him for the very first time because… well… I just never expected him to be so… romantic.
His ad reads: Rugged and worldly man seeks small-town woman with shining gray eyes and a personality to match. Must love dogs. He is charming, handsome, protective, and part-owner of a suspicious (but entirely legal) elite security service. She is smart, funny, adorable, and a good mother who did not get lucky, but got exactly what she deserved. She can pull off every kind of vintage and if she chooses him, she will never be alone and scared again. If this sounds like you, Gray Eyes, please respond to me, Rugged and Worldly, in the next issue so we can start a public correspondence.
I giggles at the last part. “Amon Parrish?”
“Rosie Harlow?”
“Did you just ask me out using a lonely hearts ad?”
“I did.”
“Is this… some kind of gesture?”
“As opposed to…?”
“You don’t really want to print this, do you? I mean, it’s just a clever trick, right?”
“Well, of course I want you to print it.”
“You want the whole world to know you’re asking me out?”
“The whole world?” Amon shrugs. “Well, I don’t mind if the whole world knows, but my target area is really just Trinity County.”
I let out a long breath and suddenly, the world is much brighter than it was two minutes ago. “Do I say yes right now? Or do I have to respond in kind?”
“Well, I really am looking to start a correspondence, but I’m also aiming for a lunch date tomorrow. So if we could just do both, that would be great.”
The laugh that comes out of me is a bit shocking. Not just because it’s loud, but because it comes with so much happy, I almost can’t categorize it.
“So,” Amon says. “What do ya say? Lunch tomorrow and a proper response next week?”
“I work here tomorrow until noon or so.”
“Well, that works out perfect since noon is the customary time for lunch.”
We stare at each other for a moment. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m thinking that this is just… good. He’s good. Despite the fact that I put him firmly into the ‘Scar’ category the other day, he’s not a Scar. He’s not. He’s… real. And protective. And while a Scar can be protective, it comes across in all the wrong ways.
Amon Parrish doesn’t come across wrong at all. Life is so weird because Amon Parrish was not even on my radar when I woke up this morning and now, he’s the only thing on my mind.
I nod. “OK.”
He smiles. “OK.” Then he looks around. “Take your time finishing up. I’ll keep myself entertained.”
I let out a breath. “Just let me clean up and we can go.”
He knocks his agreement out on the counter with a couple of knuckles and then takes himself over to the wall where I’ve framed past issues of the Bishop Busybody and starts reading them.
I turn my back, trying to get a hold of myself, then walk over to the press and put a few more letters in place to make it look like I’m working.
But actually, all I can think about is his ad.
And what I might write in response.
I’m locking up the shop when it occurs to me that I have to change before going home. “I have a place here in town,” I tell Amon. “Where I keep my dresses. Is it OK if we stop by there first?”
Amon nods. “Sure.”
“It’s just right down this way, behind the blacksmith.” We walk down Goosebeak Alley together in silence, looking around at all the backyard ladies tending their gardens and small animals. But when I stop at the bottom of the three steps that lead to my cottage, I realize that I’ve never let a man inside before.
Amon says, “This is your place?” like he’s both surprised and delighted.
“Yes. I’ll just be right back.”
Amon raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to invite me in?”
Oh, I blush. I can feel it. “It’s just a really small space. And… nothing but dresses, really.”
Amon tries to peek in a window, but I’ve got curtains, so he can’t see much. “It’s a mystery, huh?”
“No. Not really. It’s just… dresses. That’s literally it.”
Then he’s touching me. Well, not me, but my dress. His fingertips have gotten a hold of a piece of lace on my sleeve. “Dresses like this?” And is that a little bit of desire I hear in his voice?