Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
So, yes, I was standing in front of a beauty queen wearing a shirt that read Buns of Fun. A new low point, for sure.
“Hi, um, is Jonathan around?” I asked while the beauty queen smiled at me warily, like I was some crazy woman off the street who’d broken into the building.
“And you are?”
“I live next door,” I threw my thumb over my shoulder. “Just wanted a quick word, but if he’s too busy—”
“Lissa, who is it?” came Jonathan’s familiar cadence, and I stiffened, wishing I’d never left my apartment. Jonathan wore a dark blue shirt and grey slacks. It was slightly less formal than his typical suit and tie, and I got the sense they were about to go on a date, or maybe they were having dinner in the apartment. Either way, I was interrupting.
“Oh, Ada, hello. Is everything all right?”
I chewed my lip. “Yes, everything’s fine. I was hoping to have a quick word, but it looks like you’re busy, so I can come back another time.”
“No, it’s fine. We can talk.” He glanced at Lissa. “I’ll just be a minute.” The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, if I had to guess, glanced from Jonathan to me then gave a vaguely put-out nod.
“Okay, but our reservation is in twenty minutes, so we have to leave soon.”
“We will. I won’t be long.”
With that, she left, and Jonathan stepped out into the hallway, closing his apartment door, which I was grateful for since I didn’t need Lissa earwigging on the pathetic conversation that was about to ensue. I was internally deliberating on whether I should just ask about the cleaning schedule and leave it at that. No need to humiliate myself in front of this man any more than I already had.
“So, you haven’t gotten back to me about the cleaning. I work Monday to Friday, but I can spare a few hours on the weekend. If you typically go out on Saturday nights, that might work. In fact, I can start now if you and your girlfriend are going to dinner.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jonathan said, and I blinked. Well, okay, then. He rubbed his jaw. “This is our third date. I met her on an app.”
“Oh, well, she seems very nice. So, about the cleaning—”
“You can’t do Saturday nights,” Jonathan argued. “Then you’ll never get a chance to go out yourself, and I wouldn’t want your social life to suffer.”
He looked so serious, and I just about managed to hold in a chuckle. Sure, I had a social life, but not the kind that took place on Saturday nights. My social calendar consisted of bi-monthly Sunday brunches with my sister, a once-a-month book club and the occasional mid-week pub quiz with some people from work.
“Actually, I don’t go out on Saturday nights. I’m more of a morning and daytime socialiser,” I said. “So, it would suit me down to the ground. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to come at a different time.”
Jonathan frowned, and I wondered if he were judging my embarrassing lack of exciting night outings or if he merely felt sorry for me. I mean, Leonora had mentioned Jonathan was born in ’83, which would make him forty-one years old or thereabouts. He was older than me but clearly had a much more thrilling social and dating life.
“No, Saturdays are fine if that’s what works best for you.”
“Great, so I can start tonight,” I said, and Jonathan glanced back in the direction of his apartment. He rubbed his chin, thought on it and then replied, “Maybe next week would be better.”
For a second, I was oblivious, but then it dawned on me. He might want to bring Lissa back after their date. Ugh, I was such a clueless idiot.
My eyes grew big and round as I slapped myself on the forehead. “Right. Got ya.”
Jonathan smirked and looked at me like I was adorable, which I did not appreciate one bit. Still, I soldiered on. “Well, just so you know, I’ll make sure I’m done by at least ten p.m. on Saturdays so there would be no crossovers if you’re coming home with a, uh, a lady friend.”
More amusement flickered across his features. “Noted.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key. “Here, take this so you can let yourself in next week.”
I took it, avoiding physical contact so as not to experience the same electrical jolt I’d had the last time he’d handed me a set of keys. Slotting it in my cardigan pocket, I noticed Jonathan’s amusement grow once again when he read my T-shirt.
“We had a bake sale at work last year,” I was quick to explain. “Some of the residents came up with the name.”
“Ah, I see. For a moment there, I thought you were making some kind of bold suggestive statement.”