Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Reed sits back down on the chair and his sigh causes my gaze to slide over to him.
“Fine,” he mutters. “I have a type.”
“That was Ditzy Barbie,” I say with a solemn nod of my head. “But hey, she’s really nice.”
Reed groans as he sits back against his chair and laments. “I thought I’d have this great, celebratory summer having nothing but carefree fun, but honestly…it’s been trying.”
“The Barbies?” I ask to clarify.
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but yes,” he says with a sheepish smile.
“What do you do anyway?” I ask suddenly, realizing I don’t think I’ve ever seen him leaving for work or returning at normal hours. “And what are you celebrating?”
Reed’s smile goes from sheepish to amused. “I take it you’re not a hockey fan?”
“Oh, I like watching it,” I tell him. “I just don’t know much about it.”
“I play for the Cold Fury,” he says.
My eyes go round with understanding. He’s the first professional athlete I’ve ever met. In fact, I’ve never met anyone famous before. “Wow.”
His grin gets bigger. “So I’m celebrating our Stanley Cup win.”
“Oh,” I say in understanding as I nod my head. “Then I guess burning through all of Raleigh’s Barbies is a good goal.”
“It’s stupid,” he admits with no lessening to his smile. “But it’s had its perks.”
I snort and lie back against my chair, closing my eyes again. “I just bet.”
“Still,” he drawls. “It can be tedious.”
“You’re not big on the intelligence factor,” I point out. “That means you have to work overtime in conversation.”
Reed laughs, and the sound is deep and rich. It’s a very nice laugh. “You’re probably right.”
“Phew.” I hear Kiki’s voice and my eyes pop open. She’s tottering our way on her ridiculous heels, holding a beer in one hand and a clear plastic cup with what looks like a Bloody Mary in it. “It’s hot enough to lay an egg on the sidewalk, isn’t it?”
I can’t help it. The laugh comes out and I feel instantly wretched about it.
“What’s so funny?” Kiki asks in that singsong, nothing-upstairs voice.
“Nothing,” I say as I shake my head. “I just remembered a funny joke someone told me the other day.”
“Oooh,” Kiki squeals as she shoves the beer at Reed, then sits down at the end of his chair. “I just love jokes.”
Leaning forward, Kiki stares at me earnestly, an open and engaging smile on her face. She’s a nice girl, and I feel even worse for laughing at her. I also can hardly focus on her face, with her gigantic boobs practically spilling out of her bikini top, so I decide I’ve had enough pool time for the day.
“Actually,” I say as I swing my legs over the opposite side of the chair so my back is facing Reed and Kiki. I stand up and grab my towel and phone. “I’ve got to get some stuff done around the house, so I’m going to head in.”
“Oh,” Kiki says with disappointment, and I turn to find her looking crestfallen. “I thought it would be fun to hang.”
I give her a smile—fully genuine, because she seems really, really nice. “Maybe another time, but it was really nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she chirps and then takes a sip of her Bloody Mary.
“Bye, Reed,” I say a nod.
“Wait a minute,” he says as he pulls his phone out of one of his pockets. “Give me your number.”
“For what?” I ask as I blink at him stupidly.
“I’m going to be out of town for a few days and would love for you to keep an eye on my place. Maybe pick up my mail.”
“Why do you need my number for that?” I blurt out.
“In case there’s an emergency or something,” he says with an eye roll. “It’s what neighbors do for each other.”
“Fine,” I mutter, and then rattle off my number for him. He plugs it into his phone and then shoots me a wink.
“Thanks, neighbor,” he drawls. “Let me know if I can return the favor.”
“Sure,” I mumble in response as I turn away.
That was all kinds of awkward and weird but also highly entertaining. Reed and his antics will at least keep me entertained this summer.
Chapter 3
Reed
I watch through the blinds as Josie parallel parks her little economy car in front of her house, which puts it right behind my gas-guzzling Tahoe. I’d been out on an early morning run yesterday and saw her leaving for work at 6 A.M. We chatted for a few minutes and she mentioned she was working twelve-hour shifts for the next three days.
I noted that night that she didn’t get home until 8:30, and I assume that’s because ER doctors can’t exactly clock out right on the dot if they’re in the middle of something. It’s a quarter to nine now and the pizza was delivered just ten minutes ago, so it’s still warm.