Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“…And that’s really all there was to it. Aunt Huni’s been trying to marry me off since I was twenty-nine.” She scoffed. “Even tried to set me up with some Filipino pharmacist she knew. Now, I don’t mind datin’ an older guy, but I have my limits. This fella was in his sixties, and this was five years ago. Ain’t nothin’ he can do for me but give me his home nurse’s phone number, so that I can hire her for my aunt.”
He shook his head. Their food came and they both dived in, devouring their meals. He had a juicy steak and lobster, while she dined on duck and salmon. They even tasted each other’s food, remarking on how good everything was.
When their plates were practically licked clean, their bellies full and satisfied, they looked across the table at one another. He simply couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. Just everything about her sparkled and spoke to him. Even her poem was rich, full of depth, and though melancholy, it was strikingly lovely in its own right. Her pain was not hard to see, yet protected behind the glass wall of her heart. Look but don’t touch.
He wondered if she’d be a completely different person had her mother lived, and she’d met her father before he passed? He believed she would, but perhaps not enough to totally change her personality and how she viewed the world. He figured the same about himself… Had he known the man he was named after, would anything about him be different? Would he see the world in fewer shades of gray, and instead, in colors of the rainbow? Something in the universe had changed him, regardless of who was alive, who was dead, and who never existed. Some dumb luck, or funny coincidence.
The waiter brought the check, and he pulled out his credit card from his wallet and handed it to the waiter. When the waiter returned and placed the check holder on the table, he signed the tab; leaving a tip.
“I like how you write… how you sign your name.” She pointed at the receipt. “I noticed it with the work contract, but forgot to mention it to you.”
“You like my signature?” He eyed her as held onto the pen, clicking it in and out, a bit perplexed. “That’s a different sort of compliment.”
She nodded. “You can tell a lot about someone from their handwriting.”
“And what can you tell about mine?” He picked up the receipt and waved it about.
“You’re confident. Crazy. Sly. You sometimes take yourself too seriously. You’re smart, and you’re passionate.”
She’s like Mama when she reads those silly tarot cards.
Plucking her wine glass from the table, she took a meager sip. She struck a vivacious chord within him. The song rang in his ears.
“Well, I ’spose I’d better get you home.”
Her smile waned like the moon, and then her cheeks plumped, as if she just remembered to smile again.
“Yeah, I better be gettin’ back. Besides, I worry about Huni at night. Sometimes she gets confused. Can’t tell if she’s dreamin’ or really seeing things.”
He pulled out her chair and when she stood, he took her hand.
“You mean she sleepwalks?”
“Kind of. She gets into these states. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it takes a lot of time and patience for me to get her to relax and settle down.”
After thanking the staff for fantastic service and an incredible meal, he helped his little lady in the truck. Once they were good and on the road, the sounds of, ‘Knoxville Girl,’ by The Louvin Brothers filling the air, she slipped off her sandals and slumped in her seat, as if fit to sleep. And that’s exactly what she did. Purse against the window, forearm leaning on it, she slipped away, looking picturesque.
He knew then, he had her. A woman like Poet didn’t let her guard down with just anyone, and she damn sure wasn’t going to fall asleep near a man she didn’t trust.
She feels safe… Like she can just be herself and give in to peace…
And he wanted that for her almost more than anything else in this whole wide world…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Wilde Gentleman and the Mysterious Nightgown
Poet groaned when she came to. The birds were chirping outside her window, and long, pale fingers of light curled bright through the curtains. It was like something out of a Disney movie, only she didn’t feel compelled to jump out of bed and talk to forest animals.
She stretched her arms, and her grogginess began to fade away. That’s when reality hit. She recognized she didn’t recall saying goodbye to Kage, let alone climbing up the steps and getting in the bed.
Shoving the thick white duvet off her body, she looked down. What in the world? She was in a nightgown, her bra and panties from the evening before beneath it. She never slept with her underwear on. It was either naked or pajamas with no undies. No exceptions. She rubbed her head, yawned, and tried to sew the pieces of memory together, to make a recollection quilt of sorts. She came up empty. The last thing that came to mind was feeling soft and cozy in Kage’s truck while an old honky-tonk song played, then fading away.