Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
But before it could even register as a feeling, I flipped a switch and it was gone.
“I’ve had the best news this afternoon, and I’ve simply got to share it with someone.” Mrs. Gardner set the pitcher down and beamed at me. “My granddaughter Stella is coming to visit.”
Too hot and thirsty to resist, I picked up the glass of iced tea she’d poured for me and drank half of it down.
“She’s probably about your age, and she’s always so busy, I hardly ever get to see her.” Mrs. Gardner pushed the plate of cookies toward me. “Help yourself, dear.”
I picked one up and bit into it—it was soft and sweet and tasted like childhood. I finished it in three bites and looked longingly at the rest.
Mrs. Gardner laughed as she refilled my glass from the pitcher. “Eat as many as you want. I made them for you. My Stella isn’t much for sweets. I don’t think she even knows how to bake. One of those career girls, you know. She’s a therapist. And she runs marathons. I’ve seen you running down the road, too. Do you run marathons?”
I shook my head and took a second cookie off the plate. At least if I kept eating, I wouldn’t have to actually say anything.
“She’s such a dear girl, so thoughtful and kind. Would you like to see her picture?”
I didn’t, not really, but she didn’t wait for my answer before disappearing through a swinging door into the dining room. A moment later, she returned with a framed photo in her hand.
“Isn’t she lovely?” she asked, setting the frame up next to the cookie plate. “This was taken last Christmas.”
I was prepared to nod politely even if her granddaughter was a dog, but when I looked at the woman in the photo, I had to admit she was pretty. Long blond hair worn straight to her shoulders. Light eyes. A shy smile. Full lips. Her arms were crossed beneath her chest in the photo, but not in a defensive way. More like she was cold.
Before I could help myself, I focused on her breasts. The tops of them were sort of pushing up above the neckline of the dress she wore. From there, my dick hijacked my brain and I immediately pictured her naked, which caused a rush of heat to my crotch.
Fuck.
I did not want to get hard sitting in this old lady’s kitchen.
As quickly and easily as I’d shut off the memory of my childhood, I looked away from the photograph and severed the connection between my body and my brain, staring out the window at the backyard until I felt nothing. It was a matter of seconds.
“Anyway, I’m so looking forward to seeing her. She arrives tomorrow morning.” Mrs. Gardner’s voice had lost a little of its pep, and I felt guilty.
Say something nice about the photo, dickhead.
But before I could think of anything, she took the frame off the table and left the kitchen. I felt like shit.
By the time she came back, I’d stood up, wondering how rude it would be to make a fast exit.
“Leaving already?” She sounded disappointed.
“Yeah, I have to get going.”
“Of course. I’m sure you’ve got places to go, a young man like you. You don’t want to spend all your time with a silly old grandmother like me. But I was just wondering, could you maybe take a look at the front porch? There’s a board that feels a little unsteady, and I’m wondering if I should have it replaced.”
“Uh, sure. I can take a look.”
She smiled and clasped her hands together. “Wonderful. And while you’re doing that, I’ll wrap the rest of the cookies so you can take them home. Come right through here.”
I followed her through the dining room and living room to the front of the house. The big wooden door was open, and the screen door squeaked as she pushed it. I made a mental note to oil the hinges for her.
Out on the porch, she pointed toward a board near the door. “Step right there. Do you feel that?”
I walked on the board she indicated, and sure enough, it gave a little beneath my feet. So did the one next to it. “Yeah. These two need to be replaced before they start to rot.”
She gasped. “Rot! Oh no, that doesn’t sound safe at all. And you know, I’ve had both hips replaced already. I don’t want to risk a fall. Do you know how to do it?”
I crouched down and looked a little closer. Beneath the flaking white paint, the boards were one-by-four fir decking, which would be easy enough to get, but they ran front to back, which meant one end was under the toe kick and the other beneath the railing. It wouldn’t be a quick fix.