Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Ah.”
“You’ve been here?” I asked. “You know the layout?”
“Yes. My mom and I stayed in the apartment for a while.”
I made a low noise so she knew I heard her, but I didn’t comment. I sensed a story there, but I remained quiet. I had no desire to know her past.
She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“Where are you staying?”
She frowned. “Next door.”
“There’s no kitchen. And it would go faster if the place were empty.”
She shrugged. “I can eat out until it’s ready. Plus, I can help put it back together. I’m pretty handy.”
I didn’t respond, watching as she lifted the pizza box. “Breakfast,” she explained.
But she grimaced as she stood, and I frowned.
“You okay?”
“The window was pretty heavy.”
“Do you need to be looked at?”
She grinned, suddenly looking mischievous. “I think you did enough of that earlier.”
I scowled. “I barely looked at you. I’m a firefighter and have paramedic training. I could make sure nothing is broken,” I said firmly.
“I’m fine.” She headed to the door. “This was nice.”
“We’re not making it a habit,” I replied. “I have no desire to be friends.”
She began to laugh. “Oh, you are as grumpy as Lou told me. Do you ever speak without a grunt or a snarl?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Don’t worry, Thorne. Barney and I will be fine.”
“Who the hell is Barney?”
“My cat.”
“I never said you could have a cat,” I sputtered.
“Too late, we’re a package deal.”
“I have a dog,” I snapped. “He doesn’t like cats.”
She looked around. “Is he invisible? Like your pretend dog?”
I stood, towering over her, realizing just how short she was. “Miller had an infection in his paw, and there was a complication. He’ll be home tomorrow.”
She stopped teasing. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Keep your cat away from him.”
She turned to go and began to laugh. “Barney and Miller. Wasn’t that a TV show in the ’70s?”
I snorted. “Neither of us was born then.”
“I know. But my mom and I loved it—we watched the reruns all the time.”
I ignored how delighted she looked. It did something to my chest.
I should never have let her in the door.
“Good night, Katharine.”
“Casey. It’s Casey, Thorne.”
“Jesse,” I corrected her.
“But Thorne suits you better. Because you’re all grumpy and thorny when you get riled.”
“I’m that way all the time. Remember that. And it’s Jesse.”
“Night, Thorne.”
I growled as she walked out the door, following her and unable to let her have the last word.
“Good night, Katharine Casey.”
And I slammed the door before she could respond.
Leaning my head back on the door, I groaned. I knew a tenant would be a pain.
I just had no idea how much of a pain.
And I had a feeling it was just starting.
“Be patient,” she said.
“Thanks, Lou,” I muttered.
I swore I heard her cackling.
Chapter Three
JESSE
Isat up, smashing my pillow and lying back down, trying to get comfortable. Instead of getting a long, much-deserved night’s rest, I couldn’t relax.
And it was all Casey’s fault.
She had left, and I’d shut off the lights and pulled on some sweats, heading to bed since I was exhausted.
But as soon as my head hit the pillow, the thoughts started.
I wondered where she would sleep tonight.
On the floor? The old sofa?
There was no bed upstairs since Lou had taken it with her to the home. In fact, all her bedroom furniture had gone and was donated afterward. All that was left in the place were a few odd pieces, including a small table and the old sofa that I recalled being pretty lumpy.
I reminded myself it wasn’t my business.
Then another thought hit me.
Did she have towels if she wanted a shower? Soap?
How would she make coffee in the morning?
Did she drink coffee?
I cursed and sat up, yanking on my hair.
Did she lock the door?
Would the creaks and groans of an older house worry her?
Did she have some pain meds to make her back hurt less?
“Jesus, shut up!” I snarled to myself, once again taking my frustrations out on my pillow and trying to relax. I shut my eyes and sighed. Counted to ten. Then one hundred.
Did she have a pillow? A blanket? The nights were still chilly since summer hadn’t officially begun.
With a low growl, I sat back up, listening. Earlier, I had heard the water running and the muted sounds of her moving around. Now, it was quiet, which meant she was fine.
Right?
“None of my business,” I muttered.
I thought of her indignation about being female and needing help. She would probably laugh if she knew I was at all concerned.
I remembered her teasing, the thought of it making me smile now. How she didn’t take any of my rebuffs to heart. In fact, my gruffness seemed to delight her somehow.
I hadn’t always been this grumpy. But too many hurts and disappointments had made me bitter, and I was no longer the man I had been years ago.