Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Since he wanted that too, he was all the way down.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” she mumbled, sounding nervous. And then she gave it to him. “Just so you know, this isn’t a he’s my rescuer situation. Just so you know…” There was a very long, heavy pause, then on a rush, “I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”
Harry didn’t know what to say to that, which was good, since she wasn’t done talking.
“Not in a stalkery, euw kind of way. I mean, you’re handsome. And, um…tall.”
“Thanks,” he choked out, trying hard not to bust out laughing.
“So, it stands to reason I would.” Another lengthy pause. “Have a crush on you, that is.”
“To put you out of your misery, sweetheart, I may have just met you a few days ago, so my crush hasn’t lasted that long, but it’s there.”
“Really?” she whispered, so soft, so sweet, so hopeful, he felt it in his chest and his dick.
“Really,” he whispered back.
“Can I go back to Willie and why I—?”
Oh no, they weren’t going to do that.
“Lillian,” he interrupted her. “Let’s start here. You’ve had a life. I’ve had a life. And we can, and I hope we will, talk about those lives. I wouldn’t pick how we met as how I’d like to meet a beautiful woman I’m very attracted to and would like to get to know better. But we don’t have a choice but to work around that. So how about we stick with easy shit for a while and get into the heavier shit later?”
“That would be awesome,” she breathed, causing Harry to grin again. “So what’s easy shit?” she asked.
“I have no clue,” he admitted.
He heard her soft, pretty laugh, and he wondered if her mother’s singing was as musical as Lillian’s laughter.
“So, I already checked, and tomorrow night the theater has a double bill of Murder by Death and Knives Out,” she stated. “It starts at seven, and there’s a half hour intermission, so it might be a late night.”
“I’m an early to bed, early to rise guy, but I can make an exception on a Saturday.”
“I’m an early to bed, early to rise girl, too.”
“You wanna eat junk at the theater, or hit Luigi’s for some pasta before?”
“Let’s go for pasta before. I haven’t been to Luigi’s in ages.”
That meant more time. Time to chat. Time to get comfortable with each other.
He was so fucking totally down.
They continued to talk while he sipped beer and envisioned her sitting on her comfortable-looking couch.
He told her about his dogs and asked if she liked animals.
She told him about her cat, who she’d had for fifteen years, getting it for some company right after her parents went missing, but it had died the year before, and, “I’m still not ready to replace her.”
She also spoke about her parents missing like it was matter of fact, something Harry had no doubt it had become for her as the time stretched on.
But the loss of her pet openly gutted her, even if she lost her the year before.
Not that he wanted to even contemplate losing one of his babies, but how much she cared for her cat said good things to Harry.
She told him she loved mysteries, both books and movies, so she’d been wanting to go to this double bill since it was announced.
He told her he obviously got off on mysteries, considering his job, which made her laugh that pretty laugh again.
She told him about Ronetta and George, her neighbors, and Sherise and Shane, their kids who had left the nest.
He told her his father had moved down to Arizona after retiring, and that his brother was in Olympia, practicing law.
There was discussion about what they’d get at Luigi’s (she was going for the chicken piccata, he told her he’d get the caprese salad, which opened the door to her shoveling a slight amount of shit at him for finding the only somewhat healthy thing on the menu to eat). This led to them discussing their favorite restaurants in town, their favorite spots to hike, and them learning they shared a “favorite day.” That being renting a boat and going out on one of their lakes and simply being out in the fresh air, on the water, doing nothing.
In other words, they laid the getting-to-know-you groundwork before Lillian told him she had some proofing to do on one of her client’s manuscripts, so she had to let him go.
Once they got into the swing of it, there was something comforting and easy about shooting the shit with Lillian, hearing her voice in his ear, having her give him her time, giving it in return.
But work was work, so even if he didn’t want to, he let her go.
Then he got up, taking his empty bottle to the sink to rinse out before putting it in the recycling.