Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
nod, not sure what to say.
“I have a change of clothes in the truck. I’mma grab them and change for work before I’m late.” He grabs his stuff from his truck and heads to the bedroom and I finish my coffee, making a note to check the pottery Heston and I created last night. A few minutes later, he’s back in the kitchen anxiously adjusting his tie.
“Does this look okay?” He glances up at me with worried eyes. The three-piece black on black suit and green tie look really good on him. “You look professional.”
“Professional,’ he whispers, smoothing down the silk. He’s nervous, and it’s cute. I wonder why.
“Big client today?” I prod.
“Hoping to close on a house. Walk me out?” he asks, and I nod, opening the front door. The morning sun is hot, ready to sweep over the state with a mid-summer smog. The air is so thick, you can hardly breathe.
“I should be back around dinner, unless things fall through, then I’ll be back by lunch,” he says, walking fast.
“Rain, dear!” I look past him to see Flynn and Oliver heading toward us. Oliver’s dressed to impress, despite the rising heat, in a white-collared shirt with a cardigan thrown over his shoulders, his better half standing taller and tanner, in jeans and a fitted tee. Owen eyes Heston, waiting for me to introduce them.
“Heston, this is Flynn and Oliver. Guys, this is Heston.”
“Hi, there!” Flynn extends his hand to shake, and Heston reaches forward to accept.
“You going to a wedding?” Flynn asks, his eyes squinted as he looks Heston up and down.
He glances down at himself. “Uh, no. I’m closing on a house. It’s kind of big deal for me,” he says around light laughter. I can’t help but smile with him.
“Wait,” Flynn says, holding his hand up for Heston to stop talking. “You’re going to persuade someone to buy something looking like a salesman?”
My brows furrow. Wouldn’t you want to look the part?
“What are you suggesting?” Heston hesitantly asks, just as confused.
“First, take off that tie.” Flynn rests one hand on his hip, the other gesturing toward Heston.
“Uh…” Poor guy doesn’t know what to do. I have to bite back my reaction. My gay neighbors are styling my boyfriend.
“Then that topcoat and vest need to go.” Owen points to everything on Heston’s upper half.
He glances at me, questions in his eyes.
“Do it. Listen to what they have to say and see if you like it.” I shrug.
Okay,” he mutters, taking off the tie and handing it to me, the fabric silky in my hand. Next, the coat and the vest are in my arms, weighing me down, causing me to sweat in this heat.
“Okay, what now?” Lines form around his eyes. His hands fall and slap at his sides, reminding me of a little boy asking his mom what to try on in a dressing room.
“Here, let me help.” Owen steps forward and loosens the collar on Heston’s black button-up, undoing one or two buttons. Grabbing the bottom of the shirt, he pulls on it slightly, so it’s not so snug on his body but still tucked in.
“There. Done.” Owen claps his hands and takes a step back to admire his work.
“Yeah, now you look good. You don’t look like you’re trying so hard but it’s still respectful,” Flynn adds.
“Yeah, I guess I do feel more comfortable,” Heston admits, his eyes trailing off, landing on the house at the end of the cul-de-sac.
“Hey, what do you know about that house? How long has it been up for sale?” We all look to the house. I haven’t seen anybody there since I moved in.
“Been for sale for a while. Probably will be for a while still.”
“Why? What happened?” I ask, curious myself.
“It was quite scandalous. A guy cheated on his wife with the woman who used to live in your house.” Owen points just behind me. “The husband was taxed with rage and he killed the other husband that slept with his spouse.”
“Like, murder?” I ask, my eyes wide with surprise. No wonder nobody lives in it. Just thinking about the man who used to live in my house being deranged with jealousy, to the point of taking another life, makes me feel uneasy. Why didn’t the damn realtor say something to me about all this? Probably because nobody actually died in the house.
Ringing sounds from Heston’s pocket. He pulls his phone out and glances at it.
“Shit, I’m going to be late.” He kisses me on the cheek and waves to the guys. “Thanks, I owe you one.” Climbing into his truck, he backs out and drives away. I feel Owen and Flynn staring at me.
“Where did you snag that snack?” Owen asks.
“He wrecked into me,” I confess, turning until I’m facing them both. Owen squints from the morning sun, his left hand fanning him from the harassing heat. Flynn crosses his arms, smirking.