Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I knew.
She’d fallen asleep in my lap, and her hair had fallen out of her ponytail one corkscrew at a time.
“I saw,” I teased. “Now where are you taking me to dinner?”
Her eyes started to twinkle as she said, “Originally, I was going to take you to my place and make some dinner. But I have to admit, sitting there reeling in four fish really took a lot out of me. The thought of cooking anything makes me want to break out in hives. So I’m open to suggestions.”
The thought of heading to her place sounded fantastic.
“How about we still do that, and I’ll order pizza?” I suggested.
Her eyes went soft as she said, “Perfect.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling up into an older part of Dallas where all the original homes started. All the houses were shotgun style, and very cookie cutter. However, everyone in the neighborhood had found a way to make their home unique. And none of them looked trashy or run down.
“That one is mine,” she pointed to a black house. “You can pull into the driveway.”
With what was remaining of the light, I took in her front yard. Her small postage stamp yard that was neatly mowed. The flower beds bursting with flowers. The small crab apple tree that looked to be planted in recent years.
“The landscaping looks great,” I said as I bailed and headed for her side of the truck.
She waited for me, a grin on her face.
I helped her down out of the truck as she said, “It took me all spring to get it looking this pretty. For three solid months I lost valuable sleep while I was opening the bakery, pulling double duty to make it this way.”
We stopped next to the giant ferns that were lining the way up her steps.
Her black steps.
“I love the black, too,” I said as we came to a stop in front of her red door.
“It’s not actually black,” she admitted. “It’s more coffee ground brown. The accents are black, though. With a little white thrown in.”
She pushed through her front door after inputting a code to get in, then reached over and turned off the alarm the moment she got through the door.
Impressed with her security, I took in her surroundings.
“Wow,” I breathed. “You’ve put a lot of work into this.”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I can’t take all the credit. The previous owners did all the bare bones work. All I had to do when I came in was get new countertops and paint.”
“Well, still. I like the colors you chose.” I eyed the countertops, which I could see from the front door. “Quartz?”
She tossed a look over her shoulder with a frown. “You can see that from this far away?”
I chuckled as I moved farther into her house, following her. “Blessed with bad eyesight. I had corrective surgery a few months ago, actually. For once in my life, I don’t have to wear glasses.”
“You wore glasses?” she squeaked.
“Still do sometimes,” I admitted. “Got everything all fixed up except I didn’t want two different lenses in my eyes, so when I’m reading for any length of time, I still have to put them on.”
She threw her stuff onto her couch right inside the door, then made her way to the fridge where she pulled out the same beer brand from earlier.
Speaking of… “Shit, I left my beer in my brother’s truck.”
She grinned and said, “He might need it after having to deal with Pepper. I love the girl, but she’s a handful.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, heading toward her.
She handed me a beer, then went to the drawer next to the fridge and pulled out a stack of take-out menus, the pizza ones on top.
“Pepper is like a live electrical wire. She’s just so intense and…” She searched for the word for a few seconds, a cute little wrinkle popping up between her brows. “Serious. When she leaves the bakery, she goes straight to work overnight at that fancy smancy hotel by the interstate. She doesn’t start working until like six in the evening, so she has like six hours after she leaves the shop to catch a few hours of sleep. She lives at the hotel, by the way.”
“She does?” I asked.
“She does,” she agreed as she pulled out a pizza menu and handed it to me. “This is my favorite place to eat.”
I started scanning the menu as she continued her story about Pepper.
“Her sister, Sage, lives here. I’m sure you know of her.” At my nod, she continued. “Pepper moved here to try to reconcile with her, but as of yet, negotiations aren’t going well. She’s spent the last year and a half trying to make strides and hasn’t accomplished anything.”
“I’ve heard that, too,” I said. “Atlas saved Sage from the serial killer.”