Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“I did.”
There was a warm, floating sensation in my chest at the awe on her face as she looked at the table I’d painstakingly worked on for her.
The last layer of sealant had just finished drying that afternoon. It needed another day or three to be hard enough for me to feel comfortable with her using it. But I’d been dying to finally give it to her.
“This is incredible. Like, genuinely, Saul. This would be worth thousands if you sold it. And it’s solid,” she said, knocking on the wood. “Nothing is solid wood anymore.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I said, watching her lovingly stroke the surface. “Because I made it for you.”
“Wait… what?”
Her lips parted; her pretty eyes went round.
“No.”
“Yes. I’ve been working on it since you mentioned wanting a small two-seater table to fit your space.”
“That’s… that’s so incredibly generous. But I can’t accept this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you should be selling it. Seriously, thousands, Saul. I’ve seen people pay like five grand for something half as gorgeous.”
“It’s not about money.” Hell, the wood wasn’t even that pricey. The biggest investment in it was the time.
“You must have been working on it day and night.”
“That’s what I like about making something for someone. The hours I spend on it, thinking about what they might like, how they might use it, what kind of memories they might make with it.”
“In that case,” she said, running her hand across the surface again, “I accept. I insist on paying you back with a meal served on it.”
“No way I’m passing up on that. But we’re gonna have to find you some chairs first. I haven’t perfected the art of making a chair yet.”
“Luckily, I specialize in finding things like that. Even if I have to sand them down and stain them to match the table.”
“I’d be happy to help.”
“Thank you for this, Saul. Really. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Clearly, she didn’t have a mirror.
“You’re more than welcome. Alright. Take up the stool. Relax. I’ll get the bath all ready for you.”
When I left, she was still lovingly stroking the table.
And my dirty mind didn’t imagine those fingers moving over my skin like that.
As much as I’d dreamed of her showing up at the door, of what we would do when that happened.
This was not the time.
She was here for comfort, not sex.
So while she took a hot bath, I was going to take a long, cold shower.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Este
Honestly, I just snapped.
I’d been sitting on my phone, researching the town and its many colorful past and present residents while the neighbor started to screw something over and over that made this god-awful shrieking sound each time. I swore I felt the sound stab up my spine, into my ears. My teeth hurt with it.
When Trix let out a cry at the racket, I just flipped out.
I jumped up, ranting and raving as I grabbed Trix’s leash and my shoes.
At first, I think my intentions were to just take a long walk. To clear my head. To ground myself. To hopefully give the neighbor a chance to finish what they were doing.
But after a long loop around the town, I started back home only to hear sawing from the other side of the duplex.
I was just done.
I had to get away.
I needed a distraction.
I needed some silence.
And, yes, to a lesser degree, I also wanted some answers.
Because I had more questions than them.
My head was spinning with all the names and crimes of the residents of Shady Valley.
I mean… a few years back, a bunch of men had died of poisoning. There’d been whispers online that a female revenge assassin had been responsible.
A revenge assassin poisoner?
What surreal world was this?
Then there were the many blogs and articles about the organized crime organizations in Inyo County, California.
Suddenly, I was imagining everyone I passed was some kind of murderous psycho or drug lord.
Which, in turn, made me feel a little like I was losing my mind. I mean, I might as well get fitted for a tin hat.
I wanted someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy.
So I packed Trix into the car and drove to the most levelheaded person I knew to tell me exactly that.
Only to find that he was harboring a criminal. That he’d made me go with him to get said criminal’s dog out of a shelter.
My stomach had been sinking the whole walk up to Saul’s workshop. Because I knew. Without asking, I knew. The only way he would aid and abet a criminal… was if he was one himself.
I mean, not that I judged all criminals. People did stupid things without thinking. They pulled pranks that went awry. They got involved with drugs. They got desperate enough to do sex work.
I wasn’t judging.
But I also believed that some people belonged in jail, that some individuals were too dangerous to be out in the world with innocent people to torment.