Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Keys.”
“You want my keys?” I’m learning quickly that Mr. Walker uses as few words as possible.
“What I said.”
“Why?”
His jaw flexes. I don’t think he’s used to being questioned. “I’ll move it to the barn.” He nods towards the giant red barn, and I can only guess he doesn't want my crappy car outside his pretty house. That shouldn't sting, but it does.
“I can move it.” He keeps his hand out and I finally give up and hand them over. I don’t really want to fight with my new boss on the first day.
He puts them into his pocket before going to the back of the car and grabbing my bag that he told me to get myself a moment ago. I keep quiet as I follow him inside and then gasp.
The house is breathtaking, or at least it would be if not for the mess. The inside has been updated like the outside, but that’s as far as the care has gone.
I stare at the beautiful kitchen that would be any cook’s dream, wondering where I’m going to start. No wonder he’s good with a live-in housekeeper. From the look of things, he needs someone to follow him around and pick up after him.
“Are you coming?”
I pull my eyes away from the pile of dishes in and around the sink to where Mr. Walker is standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Sorry.” I follow him up as he pushes into one of the rooms and drops my bags on the floor.
“This is your room. I eat dinner at five. Don’t need it tonight. Settle in.” With that, he turns and leaves without a goodbye or anything.
I didn't know I’d be cooking too, not that it matters. I enjoy it, and I’ll need to make stuff for myself anyways. I peek my head out into the hallway and watch him enter another bedroom, which I’m guessing is his.
Quietly I shut my door and let out a breath. He’s intense. I put my hand to my chest, realizing my heart is pounding. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it.
I spend the next hour unpacking my bags and hanging my clothes up. There isn't much to the room with only a small twin-size bed, a dresser, and one nightstand, where I place the stack of books I brought with me, along with my Kindle.
Remembering that I forgot to text my sister, I let her know that I made it safely and I’m about to go have a look around. I slide the phone into my back pocket and realize it’s going to take some time to get used to having a cell phone.
I pause at the door, wondering if I’m going to run into Mr. Walker. I’m still unsteady about our first meeting because I almost think he doesn't like me. I have no idea what I could have done already to make my new boss mad, but I guess there’s really only one way to find out.
When I hit the bottom stairs, I pause when I see Mr. Walker standing there eating a sandwich over the sink. The man really is living the bachelor life.
“Would you like me to make you something else?” I tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear and he grunts a “no” before polishing off his sandwich and reaching for another he made. “Did I do something to make you mad?”
“I don’t talk much.” He shrugs one of his big shoulders and then picks up a glass of milk and chugs the whole thing.
“Okay, but it still feels like you’re angry with me. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot if I’m going to be staying here.”
“We don’t need to be on any foot. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.” He puts the cup in the sink, and I look down at my hands, feeling uncomfortable as the silence stretches. “Your name.”
“What about it?”
“You’re not a Dorothy.”
I let out a small laugh and he stares at my mouth. “Well, that’s my name.”
“Dorothy is an old woman's name.”
Is that the problem? I remember his comment outside about me not being old. He must have thought I was going to be an older woman, but I don’t see how that matters. I still know how to cook and clean.
“Well, it was my grandmother’s name.” He stares at me. “Most everyone calls me Dotty, so if you’d prefer, you can call me that,” I offer, and he grunts. I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh because the grunting is getting ridiculous.
“I have shit to check on.” He pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Call me Clay.”
As he walks past me, he stops abruptly. I glance over at him to see he’s starting at the ring on my finger.