Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Nice to meet you, Stan. I’m Gia, her granddaughter. And this is Colton,” I introduce, and he lifts his chin Colton’s way.
“Do you plan on being here for a while?” he asks, and I nod once more.
“Cool, just press the bell on the wall and I’ll come collect her tray when she’s done eating.”
“Will do, thanks again.”
“No problem.” He smiles at me then looks at Grandma. “Enjoy your visit,” he tells her before leaving.
“He seems nice.” I smile at Grandma, and she shrugs.
“He’s nice enough… for a prison guard,” she murmurs before taking another bite, and even though I know it’s not nice, I still laugh.
“Your grandma seemed okay tonight,” Colton says two hours later, as he opens my door for me to get into the cab of his Suburban.
“She did,” I agree, thinking that’s an understatement. After we sat with her while she ate, we took her on a walk around the building, and then I helped her into her pajamas before getting her into bed. Yes, she still thought she was in prison when we left, but she was talkative and alert the whole time we were there with her. It was a huge change from even yesterday, when I thought for sure I would get a call that she had suddenly passed away.
“Do you feel better now?” he asks, sliding in behind the wheel, and I turn my head to look at him after locking my seat belt in place.
“Yeah, I needed to see her like that,” I admit, and his face softens.
“I’m glad you got it then,” he says, starting up the engine and backing out of the parking space.
Hearing my stomach growl, I cover it with my hand. “I’m starving.”
“Wow, she’s hungry,” he mutters, and I smack his chest with the back of my hand lightly.
“It’s hard to think about food when you’re worried about your family.”
“You’re right.” He reaches over and rests his hand in my lap. “How about we stop and pick up a pizza to take home?”
“That sounds good, but at some point, I’m going to need to start cooking again. If I keep eating takeout the way I have been, I’m going to end up gaining twenty pounds,” I mutter, looking at my cell phone to make sure I haven’t missed any calls.
“I like all of this.” He squeezes my thigh. “And if you gain more weight, I’ll like all that too,” he says, and my stomach dips in a good way. “Still, you’re right. We can go grocery shopping tomorrow when we get off work.”
“Don’t you work tomorrow night?” I ask, remembering looking at the schedule and seeing he worked most days from four ‘til closing.
“I changed shifts with Dad for this week so I could be around if you needed me.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal that he did it, when it is not just a big deal, but a huge one.
“Now you’re making it hard for me not to kiss you,” I tell him honestly.
“Not going to stop you,” he rumbles, as a smile spreads across his lips. “But just saying you could wait until I have you home to do it so I don’t have to pull away to go in and pick up our pizza.”
“Right,” I say, and his hand on my thigh tightens before he lets me go to pick up his phone and hand it to me.
“Call in our order. Number’s under Bob’s Pizza,” he instructs.
“What kind of pizza?”
“Whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t have fruit on it.”
“You mean pineapple?” I ask, and he smiles.
“Yeah, like pineapple. I do not eat fruit on my pizza.”
“Are you crazy?” I gape, and he looks over at me, grinning.
“I’m guessing you like to eat fruit on your pizza.”
“You cannot eat pizza without it,” I tell him honestly.
He laughs. “Order half whatever you want and half meat.”
“Meat pizza. Could you be any more of a guy?” I tease, laughing and sliding through his contacts for the number to Bob’s Pizza in his phone. Once I find it, I hit call then I order a large half-meat half-Hawaiian pizza. And since it only takes us about five minutes to get there, we spend fifteen minutes making out in the parking lot before he has to run in and pick it up.
~**~
Hearing my cell phone ring in the back pocket of my jeans late the next morning, I drop the rag in my hand to the top of the table I’m cleaning, and pull it out. The number isn’t one I recognize, but it’s local, so I slide my finger across the screen and put it to my ear.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Miss Caro, it’s Detective Preston.”
“Hi, Detective. How are you?” I ask, looking over at Colton when I feel his eyes on me from across the room.