Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“Sounds good.”
I hung up and, after searching through the bag I still hadn’t unpacked in the bedroom, took out my portable charger and set it on the island with a battery powered lantern and an extra package of batteries. Then I took out my tablet and opened the ebook I’d been wanting to read. I was ready for anything, but I’d be fine if nothing happened tonight besides me getting a few chapters deep and distracting myself from trying to text August again.
Fifteen minutes later, the explosive sound of a tree cracking and then crashing into something close had me dropping my tablet, jumping to my feet and struggling to get back into my wet boots. That was right on top of us.
“Fuck.” I looked out the window. The rain was knife sharp and sideways. The gusts had to be close to seventy-five miles an hour. Even for Texas, that was crazy. A Cat 2 behaving like a Cat 4.
The tall pines in the neighborhood were no match for those gusts. As soon as I saw the tree—a fifty-foot monster broken off like a matchstick and laying on the roof of the one-story side of Gus’s house—I grabbed my headlamp and ran outside.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
She opened her kitchen door as I reached the overhang, instantly drenching herself. I had a moment to appreciate the way her clothes clung to her body before she started yelling.
“Are you kidding me with this shit?” she shouted at the sky. I hooked an arm around her waist to keep her from running into the storm in her bare feet. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”
Was she trying to start a fight with a hurricane?
“Are you hurt, Gus?” I skimmed my palms over her arms and head, looking for blood or any sign of concussion.
“I’m dandy.” She was still yelling. “There’s a hole in my ceiling with a damn tree in it, but I’m fantastic.”
“All right. Okay. Let’s get you inside.” I tightened my grip for the three seconds she resisted, then heaved a sigh of relief when she let me push the door shut and guide her backwards into the relative safety of her kitchen. “Why do I hear barking?”
Merlin didn’t bark. He grunted, grumbled and growled, but he hadn’t barked from the day they’d moved in.
August looked like she might cry. “I texted to check on Ann last night, and this morning she dropped them off with me until the weather passes. She said her neighbor had a generator and a hotspot, and she needed to be close to her house in case of flooding.”
Hell. “Tilly and Angus are here?”
Hearing their names, they bounded into the room together, barking exuberantly in recognition and jumping on the both of us.
“I gave them some of Merlin’s treats a few minutes ago. They should kick in soon.”
I cursed silently, clicking the headlamp back on. “Let’s go take a look at the damage.”
When I started toward the living room, I heard a quickly muffled laugh behind me.
“I know shock does strange things to people, but are you laughing right now?”
I supposed it was better than her silent treatment.
Another chortle escaped her. “You have a flashlight on your head.”
I turned, careful not to aim at her eyes. “It’s called a headlamp. It keeps my hands free.”
“You look like a coal miner.”
“It’s practical,” I said, eyeing the thick branch poking through her ceiling like a spear and the rain sliding down it like a mini waterfall. “We might need to call backup.”
“Give me a number.” She fumbled and cursed beside me, tapping the screen on her phone. “My phone isn’t working.”
“It isn’t?”
“There’s an X where my bars should be. Chick called me an hour ago.”
“I talked to Kingston fifteen minutes ago; mine should work.” I pulled it out of my pocket. “Damn. A tower must have been hit.”
I pocketed it and braced myself. “Looks like we’re on our own. Got any empty buckets or one of those big storage containers?”
“I…I think so. In the garage.”
I took her arm and led her to her overstuffed chocolate-colored couch. Thankfully the branch and the rain were aimed at an empty corner of the room. The two collies jumped on the cushion beside her as if we were covered in bacon and I sighed. “Stay here while I go shopping.”
She looked up at me with a confused frown. “Where are you going shopping?”
“There’s a hole in your roof, and the cavalry isn’t coming. I'm going to the garage to see what you've got to work with.”
She reached under the chipped blue coffee table to pull out her sneakers and then got back to her feet. “I’m going to the garage,” she said firmly as she stepped into her shoes. “Tell me what we need and I’ll bring it back.”
“Gus, you don’t—”