Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
He saunters off down the hall, waving the cucumber around like he’s going into battle.
“You know, I think with the book deal you’ll be able to afford a place without a roommate,” she says to me, keeping her voice low as she watches him disappear around the corner.
“I know. We’ll see how the book does. I don’t want to get ahead of myself and make any bad decisions.”
“You’re so adult,” she says. “If I had a book deal I’d be betting on the ponies.”
“The only ponies you’d bet on would be of the My Little variety.”
“A hundred grand on Applejack.”
“High roller.” I head to the fridge and open it. “Want anything? Beer?”
“Sure,” she says and sits down at the table as I grab two Coronas and hand one to her.
I sit down across from her, the chair scraping loudly on the tile floor, and shoot her a grin that I hope looks absolutely charming. “So?”
“So,” she says, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Apparently.”
She holds up that hair-wrapped finger to signal for me to wait, has a sip of her beer, and then reaches down into her purse that she hooked on the chair, digging for something. I wait patiently while she empties out the entire contents of her hobo bag onto the table.
“Where the hell is it?” she mumbles to herself. She pulls out handfuls of receipts, wads of cash, empty packages of gum, three pens, a compact, a comb, bottles of Benadryl and salve, hair ties, her phone, mints, lip gloss, a tiny rubber pig (?), her keys, a cigar cutter (??), a McDonald’s cheeseburger wrapper, a case of colored pencils, and what looks to be a chunk of honeycomb in a Ziploc bag. “Damn it.”
“Dare I ask what you’re looking for? I guess I should be glad it doesn’t involve a cigar cutter and Benadryl.”
She takes one of the receipts from CVS that’s almost longer than a roll of toilet paper, turns it over, then picks up a pen. “I thought I packed a notebook. I had made a list of rules at home but I guess we have to start from scratch.”
“You know I have paper here, right?” I tell her, getting to my feet and grabbing a notepad from beside the fridge. I slap it down beside her. “And I assume the rules are about…”
“You won me over,” she says.
I’m smiling like crazy. “Really?”
She nods quickly. “Yup. Though, at the end of our conversation there yesterday, you did say that I had a point. About the fact that we could ruin what we have.”
“That’s true.”
“So, I figured some hard and fast rules would keep us in line. And the moment it gets a bit weird for us, I think that’s the moment when we bow out.”
“Sounds fair. So, what are the rules?”
She clears her throat and sits up straight, pushing the emptied bowels of her purse over to the side.
“First, we start with the schedule,” she says matter-of-factly, like we’re having a business meeting.
“Schedule?”
She writes as she speaks, her hair spilling over her face. “A minimum of four dates over the next two weeks.”
“Why the timeline?”
“Because otherwise we’ll lose character. Best to stay in character.”
“But we’re playing ourselves, right? Isn’t that the whole point?”
“But we need to be strangers for a bit. And we’re both busy people with lives, so I think we can master four dates within that time frame.”
“So, I guess if we’re strangers, then we shouldn’t see each other as friends during that time.”
“Correct.” She writes that down too. “Date number one, you pick me up. We treat it like we met online or through Tinder, so we don’t know much about the other. We go somewhere nice. Remember, you’re trying to impress me.”
“And you’re trying to impress me.”
She grins at me, sticking the end of the pen in her mouth. “I haven’t impressed you already?” she asks saucily.
I don’t know if it’s her faux-seductive expression, the way her shiny wild hair is flowing over her shoulders, or the full swell of her breasts pressing through her low-cut top as she leans forward, but I’m suddenly feeling very hot under my skin.
I clear my throat and try to ignore it. This isn’t going to help our situation.
“And date number two?” I ask.
“Same thing. Maybe we can do something with the bees.”
I cock a brow. “Do we have to?”
She laughs. “No, but I saw this beekeeper in Arizona online and she has like these date nights where couples come and learn about beekeeping and how it’s done, stuff like that. It makes her some extra income, it educates people, and it’s a fun experience for the couple.”
“Providing neither of them have a fear of bees…”
“Oh, you do not have a fear of bees,” she says with a dismissive wave of her pen. “After all I’ve told you about them. Anyway, it would be a fun thing to add to Palm Trees and Honey Bees and we could kind of test it out.”