Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Um,” she says, twisting her rosebud lips into a sly smile. “Yeah, that could work—as long as you don’t mind bunking with me? Fair warning, I laugh in my sleep sometimes. It can be creepy if you’re not prepared for it.”
I wink. “Think I can handle it.”
“This could be fun, actually . . . like a little sleepover,” she says with a teasing smirk. “I’ll bring the flashlight; you can tell the ghost stories.”
“Deal.”
Glad she’s in better spirits than the other night.
She leaves, and I steal a glimpse of her perfect ass in those tight jeans before she takes off for the bookshop. Then I pop my earbuds in and put on a classic-rock playlist.
I dreaded every mile of ocean I flew over coming back to the States, hated every stretch of highway, every road sign that pointed me closer to home.
But I have to say, being back isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.
In fact, I might even be enjoying it.
SEVENTEEN
ANNELIESE
nyctophilia (n.) the condition of finding comfort in darkness
A Venmo alert pops up in my email when I get home from work Tuesday night.
Florence Timmons has paid you $2,000 for one week of work.
I pull up my contacts and call her.
“Hey, girlie,” she answers on the second ring.
“Two grand? Flo, that’s way too much. I don’t even think we’ve had two grand in sales since you left . . .”
She chuckles. “I’m lucky to break even most months. I’m not in it for the money; you know that. It just gives me something to do. Anyway, I appreciate you holding the fort down while I’m gone. I know it put you in a bit of a crimp with your renovations, but I wanted to make sure it was worth your while. Maybe you can buy that light fixture you had your eye on for the dining room? The one with the crystals that looked like little raindrops?”
“How’s your mom doing?” I’ve yet to fill her in on the Lachlan situation, but I’ll be sure to catch her up to speed the second she’s back.
“Pretty well, all things considered. She’s on the mend. We’ve got her home, and she’s comfortable. We hired a home health aide to come to the house and help her with a few things. I offered to move her in with me, but she just laughed. Pretty sure we’re both driving each other crazy. She’s probably ready for me to go home, and honestly, I’m ready to go home too.”
“I can’t imagine you driving anyone crazy.”
“If my husband was still here, he’d vouch for that,” she chuckles. “Anyway, I’ve booked a flight home for the week after next, if you wouldn’t mind keeping the lights on at the shop until then?”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
“Wonderful,” she says. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Sounds good. Enjoy the rest of your time in sunny Arizona . . .”
“A little hard to enjoy when you can fry an egg on the sidewalk, but I’ll do my best,” she says, her tone sarcastic.
“And thank you again, so much, for the generous payment,” I add.
“It was the least I could do. You’re a true friend, Anneliese,” she says. “Talk to you soon . . .”
I head inside my house, kick my shoes off by the door, and set my purse down. Passing the living room, I spot boxes upon boxes of cabinetry. When I find Lachlan in the kitchen, the entire place is cleared out, spotless, and marked for tomorrow’s install.
Leaning against the doorway, I cross my arms and marvel at the auburn-haired Adonis.
“Color me impressed,” I say. “I have to watch a dozen YouTube tutorials before I feel comfortable so much as changing a faucet handle.”
“Hi,” he says when he notices me. He straightens his back, stretches his arms overhead, and massages his left shoulder. I imagine he’s sore. And tired.
“Long day?” I ask.
He nods, grabbing a beer from a nearby Styrofoam cooler. He hands it to me before going back for another.
“You look like you could use one too,” he says.
I sigh. “Is it that obvious?”
“Little bit.”
I crack the top of the can and take a sip. “So this lady came in today, wanting to return a book because it had dog-eared pages. I kindly reminded her that this was a used-book store and that slight wear and tear was normal and to be expected. And then I told her we only accepted returns if there was actual damage to the book . . . pages falling out, scribble marks, that sort of thing. Lachlan, I’ve never seen anyone’s face get so red! She literally stomped her foot and huffed and leaned over the counter demanding to speak to the manager.”
He laughs. “Take it you’ve never worked retail before?”
I take a generous gulp. “Never.”
“So what’d you do?”
“I asked her to leave.”