Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
It also didn’t suck that I was doing really well.
“Granddad,” I said as I got off the bike. “Tell me you didn’t lift that all by yourself.”
Granddad turned and grinned at me. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Which means, he’d gotten it up there himself, and tomorrow he’d be paying for it.
“You’re gonna throw your back out again,” I pointed out as I came to a stop on the other side of the maple slab. “Whatcha makin’?”
Granddad didn’t necessarily help me with anything much anymore.
He pretty much did his own thing and stocked our store room with new pieces that would sell for a fuckin’ mint—he, too, was contributing to Copper’s exit plan.
“I’m thinking a table,” he said. “I saw a really sweet football table on the news last week. It sold in auction for half a million dollars. So I thought I’d make one for the Dallas Cowboys. These fanatics love their home team.”
That was right.
Living in Dallas, Texas, you were either a Dallas Cowboys fan, or you were wrong.
Personally, I’d never really loved football all that much. I’d watch it if it was on and there wasn’t anything else to do, but it wasn’t my first pick.
Now, sand volleyball, rugby, or soccer, I was all for it.
“Is that what you’re entering into the charity gala auction for next month?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said. “Gotta build something that’ll beat out your bullshit.”
I rolled my eyes.
I hadn’t even started on my ‘bullshit’ yet.
I had no clue what I wanted to do.
But I’d figure it out.
Hopefully.
“I have a set of cabinets that I need to get started on, and I have a client meeting around noon. Do you want me to bring you lunch back, or are you good?” I asked.
“I’m good. I’m heading to lunch with Chevy. He’s swinging by after his shift,” he answered.
Chevy was an anesthesiologist now. He’d gotten the government to use his GI bill to pay for him to go to medical school, and now he was making bank.
Keely was the only one that wasn’t really raking it in, and that was because she’d started going the nursing path only to graduate, work for a year, and realize that she fuckin’ hated it. She’d found a job at a sleep study place shortly after, and now she had a cushy night job that she could relax at, still use her nursing skills, and make a pretty decent living.
Though, technically, if she really wanted to, she could be making more than all of us.
Years ago, when my father died, he’d been grooming Copper to take everything over from his real estate business. When that didn’t work out for dad or Copper, Keely had reluctantly taken the CEO position over once she’d graduated. She had to do CEO things—things that she hated doing—to keep the business alive for when Copper got out.
Even though none of us had asked her to do that.
We knew the cost it would take on her to run a business of the man that’d abused her.
But Keely? She was stronger than all of us.
She ran that CEO position like she was made for it, all the while refusing everything that position granted in return.
“Gotcha,” I said. “I’ll leave you to your table.”
I walked into the shop and inhaled, loving the smell of wood, lacquer, and even the burned sap.
It was a calming smell, and never failed to make my blood pressure lower.
I loved this place, and everything about it.
Too bad I couldn’t have the same thing at home.
If you already know I have an attitude problem, why would you upset me?
—Milena’s secret thoughts
MILENA
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Brecken repeated for the fourth time. “We were supposed to be home in time, but this stupid traffic is insane! I mean, what the fuck?”
I smiled.
“It’s okay, I promise,” I repeated. “I swear, I’m more than okay sitting at home in my pajamas and not going out tonight. It’s been a long day, anyway. I had another employee quit.”
“Was Shasha responsible for this one, too?” she asked, sounding like she was sending accusatory glares toward her husband who was likely the one driving.
“I did no such thing,” Shasha said. “I haven’t even been into the damn shop in a week now because she doesn’t want me there until she finishes the remodel. She says that I scare the contractors.”
Which he did.
“Uh, huh.” Brecken didn’t sound very convinced.
“I promise, it was not me,” Shasha repeated.
“It wasn’t,” I said. “I caught one of them stealing from the drawer. I fired her.”
“How did that interview go?” she asked.
“It didn’t work out.” I paused. “She told me that she has time blindness, and asked me if I’d make accommodations for her. After the last girl I fired with ‘time blindness,’ her words, not mine, I am gun shy over that term.”
“What the fuck is time blindness?” Brecken asked.