Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I was just overthinking it.
A man who looked like Kylo probably hooked up casually all the time with random women whose names he didn’t even know. Probably mutually enjoyable hook-ups too. Not women who would freak out and leave him—literally—high and dry.
The chances of seeing Kylo again seemed slim to none. Which was why I kind of dragged my feet in telling Traeger about what he’d said about the Teddy guy. I didn’t want him to get his hopes up when Kylo was probably going to be avoiding me like the plague.
Leave it to me to lose the business of a return customer who didn’t even raise his brows at the cost of some of the rarer plants.
“It’s weird here without Ernest,” Traeger declared after we had a slightly busy afternoon, thanks to a local craft store coming in to stock up on plants for one of their upcoming classes.
“I know,” I agreed, glancing over at his empty bed.
When I’d finally made it back to my car the night before, I’d texted her to let her know I was on my way. She’d been quick to text me back that she had already tucked Ernest in for the night and that unless I was coming with a forklift, there would be no waking him up.
I suspected she just wanted to give me a chance not to have to worry about him if I wanted to go home with Kylo. But she’d been insistent, and I’d been tired.
I was heading over to the facility after we closed up to pick him up. And, I suspected, I would be getting the third degree from my grandmother, who would want to know not only about the parasailing, motorcycle, and mansion, but also what Kylo looked like without a shirt on, and if I knew whether he was circumcised or not.
Eventually, Traeg made me a coffee as a bribe to let him get to work in the shed, leaving me to do the restocking and cleaning.
I was fine with that.
While my mind wasn’t in the greatest place right then, having to answer more questions about Kylo was worse.
I had just arrived at my grandmother’s parking lot.
And I found a group of older ladies set up on their lawn chairs just feet from the street’s edge, their gazes pinned across the street, where music was thumping from what seemed like the backyard.
“Really, ladies?” I asked after parking and walking up. I leaned down to pat Ernest’s big head, receiving a quick lick and a tail thump before he rested his giant head back down again. “There’s not even—oh,” I said, seeing a shirtless man just then walk around the house with a wheelbarrow full of, I imagined, mulch.
“He’s my favorite,” one of my grandmother’s friends declared, fanning her shirt out.
“What do you think his name is?” my grandmother asked.
“It’s got to be something sexy,” another joined in. “Dante or Dean or Diego.”
“You always want them to have D names,” the first woman declared. In her lap was a copy of the same book I’d seen on my grandmother’s dining table.
“Oh, yes, bend over,” the woman who liked D names declared as the man bent over to spread the mulch with his bare hands. Honestly, it had to be a deliberate move. Who moved that slowly and deliberately unless they were putting on some kind of show?
“No, don’t leave!” the woman with the book said with a sigh.
“Don’t you think you’ve objectified enough men for one day?” I asked.
“Oh, here comes another one!” my grandmother declared, reaching up to fluff her hair.
I was still rolling my eyes when I followed their gazes across the street.
“Kylo?” I said, shock flooding my system.
He couldn’t have heard me clear across the street.
But his head just so happened to look up at that exact moment. And his gaze landed right on me.
I saw his lips form my name.
I saw the question etched between his brows.
Great.
He probably thought I was stalking him now or something. Especially being caught outside with the lookie-lous.
“Wait,” my grandmother said as Kylo raised a hand to wave at me. “That’s the Kylo? Your Kylo?”
I raised my hand to offer him what I hoped was an apologetic wave. If you could portray that emotion with a simple gesture.
“He’s not my Kylo,” I insisted.
“Oh, you did not do him justice,” my grandmother declared.
“He’s the handsomest of the bunch,” the book lady said.
“Don’t you dare disrespect my Dante like that,” the other woman said.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Go over and say hello,” my grandmother encouraged. “You’re being rude.”
“I’m pretty sure sitting here gawking at him and his friends is what is rude,” I told her.
“Oh, pish-tosh,” she said, waving off my concerns.
“Oh, he’s coming over here,” D-name lady said. “How’s my hair?”
“He only has eyes for Rue,” my grandmother, sounding thrilled, declared.