Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Beep! Beep! Beep!
“No,” I pant, rolling to my side. I shut off the alarm then reach into my bedside drawer and quickly pull out my vibrator. Closing my eyes, I flip it on then finish myself off. Once I come, I lie there waiting for my breath to even out and my body to cool down. “This is getting ridiculous,” I groan to the ceiling then roll to my side, hugging my pillow.
It’s been three months since Harlen came into my life, and in that time, we’ve grown close. He’s always around when I have time off work, when I need someone to bitch at about things that are happening with the doctors or other nurses. He’s around when I need help putting together furniture, need a shoulder to lean on, or a just need a friend. So he’s around a lot. I like having him close; what I don’t like is wanting him the way I want him and being so afraid to lose what we have that I’m paralyzed to do anything about it.
Knowing I’m not going to find a solution to that problem right now, I sit up, drop my vibrator back in the drawer, toss back the covers, and scoot out of bed. Putting my feet to the floor, I head out of my bedroom and past the living room, smiling when I see the coffee table and standing lamp Mom and I picked out. We went to about ten shops before I found the vintage style rectangular coffee table with burnt wood and iron wheels, and three more after that before I found my lamp, a tripod base with a burlap shade. What I love more is that both pieces blend perfectly with the barstools Harlen and I found in the same vintage burnt wood, but with pretty dusty rose velvet tops and black grommets. Even Harlen, who is all man, said they were perfect. Okay so he didn’t say that but I could tell he thought so.
I turn on my coffee pot, grabbing a can of Dizzy’s food from the cupboard. The second I pop the top, he hops down off the couch where he slept last night and comes to sit at my feet. I dump his food in his bowl, set it to the floor, and then make myself a cup of coffee. Once I’ve added cream and sugar, I go to the back door and open it up a couple of inches so he can get out when he’s done eating.
I take my coffee with me and head for my bathroom, where I set it on the sink. Reaching in to turn the water on hot, I strip out of my nightgown, tossing it to the hamper. When I step into the shower, I let the hot water clear away the rest of the dream and the worry that’s been plaguing me these last few weeks—worry about my feelings, worry about Harlen’s feelings. Worry that I’m still not really living life.
Once I’m out, I dry off, put on a bra and panties, tie my still wet hair up into a ponytail, and then head to my closet to get dressed. Today is my last day off for the week, which means it’s going to be a busy day. I have plans to meet Harlen at one of my favorite bars in town to get a drink and watch a fight that is playing there tonight. I don’t really want to watch a fight, but I do want to see him before I can’t see him for a few days. So while he watches the fight, I’ll drink and soak up as much of him as I can. Before that though, I need to run to the bank to pay my mortgage, since I haven’t set it up to be drafted out automatically yet. Then I have an appointment at eleven a.m. to get my hair done by Ellie. And after that, I’m meeting my dad for lunch.
I get dressed, choosing a pair of jean shorts with lace showing through the holes in the material, a light pink satin tank with a high neckline and round hem, and my favorite leather T-strap sandals that have large rose gold crystals down the center strap. After I finish getting ready, I grab my cell phone and coffee before shutting off the light in my bedroom, and head into the living room, taking a sip from my mug as I walk.
Going to the back door I look out at Dizzy, who’s busy chasing the birds around the yard, and then open up the door wide and lean out. “Dizzy!” I yell, and his head swings my way, his ears perking up. “Come on,” I call, and he rushes through the yard, up the steps, and across the deck to me. Once he’s inside, I push the door closed behind him. I still haven’t gotten a doggie door put in. When I looked into putting one in, I found out that, with the door being glass, it’s going to cost me a small fortune. So I’m waiting and saving up the money I need to have it done.