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)
She wanted you to kiss her. Wrapped her legs around you. That’s not nothing.
Feeling the time crunch, I dried my hands, dropped the towels in the trash and pushed open the connecting door to the small waiting area before ducking into my office. There was a high-top table under the window across from my desk, but it was covered with catalogues, car magazines, and stray parts, so I swept it all into piles on the back stools. If August and I were going to talk, I wanted to do it in private, without my desk between us.
At least I’d talked Oscar out of putting the stray and her new puppies in here for the moment. It seemed she’d looked so healthy because she was pregnant, and she’d given birth a few days before the storm. They’d made a temporary spot for her in the shed out back. Hudson’s Garage had a litter of damn puppies to deal with now. This was what I got for being a soft touch.
I was swiping down the surface with a Clorox wipe when I heard August calling me from the shop. Giving one of the stools a swipe for good measure, I trashed the wipe and headed out there.
She was standing with her back to me, so I took a moment to center myself with a deep breath.
“Hey, August. I didn’t expect you to be bringing my food,” I lied.
She spun around, holding two to-go bags and clutching a couple of brown bottles against her chest. “You scared me.”
She scared me right back. If cozy-and-casual Gus was rough on my willpower, dressed-up August was damn near stroke-inducing. I’d seen more of her legs every day for weeks, but knowing what was underneath that flowing, pretty little skirt somehow made it more enticing.
“Sorry, I was cleaning up before chow.” I held up my hands. “It’s a dirty job.”
She looked me up and down, from my sweaty cap to my scuffed steel-toe boots and all the grease-stained navy work clothes in between. “You look good to me,” she said simply, before holding out the bags. “I hope you’re hungry. I think Bernie packed enough for four instead of two.”
“You look good to me.”
With one sentence, this woman got under my skin. She couldn’t know that most of the dates Morgan set me up on over the years had looked down their noses at my calloused hands and occupation, focusing more on the fact that I owned my own businesses. My ex wouldn’t let me touch her until I’d spent an hour at the sink with Gojo and a nail brush. And even then, she complained that I always smelled like motor oil.
“I can’t remember the last time I ate, so I can do it justice,” I finally said as I took the food. “You joining me?”
“That’s the plan.”
She didn’t look angry. That was a good start. “Air-conditioned office or the picnic table out back?”
“Like that’s a question,” she said dryly, wiping the sheen of sweat off her brow with the back of her forearm.
“Office it is.” I pushed open the door and ushered her inside. Setting the sack on the table, I gave the vinyl stool I’d wiped off another look to make sure there was nothing to stain her skirt and then gestured at it. “Take a load off. I hear you’ve been on your feet all day.”
“I have and I’m not used to it yet.” She set the bottles on the table and hopped up onto the swivel seat, flexing and pointing her toes with a groan. “That’s better. I don’t think I’ve been on my feet so much in years, which is a horrible thing to admit, but there you go. If someone had warned me that I’d be kidnapped by a pirate queen and her hungry mob today, I might have worn my sneakers with the pillowy insoles.”
I winced as I took the stool beside her. “I didn’t know this would happen. I shouldn’t have volunteered the space before I was sure I could be there myself, but we’re in the center of it all and on the right side of the bridge, so it couldn’t be helped.” I sighed. “I’m missing Phoebe’s organizational skills more and more.”
Her smile when she thought about my niece was sweet and disarming. “She’s got a big fan club over there, too. If I haven’t mentioned it before, you and Bernie did a great job with our munchkin.”
“Not a munchkin anymore. I didn’t realize how much she did around here until she went on that break.” Images flashed quickly through my head at her nickname. A baby being held by a seventeen-year-old August while she was blessed by my stepmother’s friend “the shaman.” An eight-year-old in a tiara wielding a lightsaber. A young woman wearing a cap and gown.