Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
And sure, Mr. Rhodes didn’t exactly seem to have a whole lot of extra time on his hands either, considering I only saw his truck at home after seven most nights but . . .
I had saved Amos’s life, hadn’t I?
And he had said he owed me, even though I didn’t plan on ever taking him up on the offer, right?
The more I thought about it, the more I settled into the idea of asking him for help. What would he say? That he had better things to do? Or he’d remind me that I didn’t even have two more weeks left at his place?
Which reminded me that I needed to decide if I was staying so I could find another rental.
Or not.
I rang out a couple more customers as I thought about it, and by the time he strolled up after saying something to Clara and Jackie that I couldn’t hear—how he knew them, I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to find out—he slowly walked up to the counter and set down two spools of line. I should really figure out what the point of one being thicker than the other was.
“Hi, Mr. Rhodes,” I greeted him with a smile.
He’d taken his sunglasses off and slid them through one of the gaps between the buttons of his work shirt. His gray eyes were steady on me as he said in that same uninterested, stern tone from before, “Hi.”
I took the first package of fishing line and scanned it. “How is your day going?”
“Fine.”
I scanned the next package and figured I might as well go in for the kill since no one was around. “You remember that time you said you owed me?”
He didn’t say anything, and I peeked up at him.
Since his eyebrows couldn’t talk, they formed a shape that told me exactly how distrustful he was feeling right then.
“You do, okay. Well”—and I lowered my voice—“I was going to ask if I could redeem that favor.”
Those gray eyes stayed narrowed.
This was going well.
I glanced around to make sure no one was listening and quickly said, “When you aren’t busy . . . could you teach me about all this stuff? Even if it’s just a little bit?”
That got him to blink in what I was pretty sure was surprise. And to give him credit, he too lowered his voice as he asked slowly and possibly in confusion, “What stuff?”
I tipped my head to the side. “All this stuff in here. Fishing, camping, you know, general knowledge I might need to work here so I have an idea of what I’m doing.”
There was another blink.
I might as well go for it. “Only when you aren’t super busy. Please. If you can, but if you can’t, that’s okay.” I’d just cry myself to sleep at night. No biggie.
Worst case, I could hit up the library on my days off. Hang out in the grocery store parking lot and google information. I could make it work. I would, regardless.
Dark, thick black eyelashes dipped over his nice eyes, and his voice came out low and even. “You’re serious?” He thought I was shitting him.
“Dead.”
His head turned to the side, giving me a good view of his short but really pretty eyelashes. “You want me to teach you to fish?” he asked like he couldn’t believe it, like I’d asked him to . . . I don’t know, show me his wiener.
“You don’t have to teach me to fish, but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I haven’t been in forever. But more about everything else. Like, what is the point of these two different kinds of line? What are all the lures good for? Or are they called flies? Do you really need those gadgets to start a fire?” I knew I was whispering as I said, “I have so many random questions, and not having internet makes it hard to look things up. Your total is $40.69, by the way.”
My landlord blinked for about the hundredth time at that point, and I was pretty sure he was either confused or stunned as he pulled his wallet out and slipped his card through the reader, his gaze staying on me for the majority of the time in that long, watchful way that was completely different from the way the older men had been eyeballing me earlier. Not sexually or with interest, but more like I was a raccoon and he wasn’t sure if I had rabies or not.
In a weird way, I preferred it by a lot.
I smiled. “It’s okay if not,” I told him, handing over a small paper bag with his purchases inside.
The tall man took it from me and let his eyes wander to a spot to my left. His Adam’s apple bobbed; then he took a step back and sighed. “Fine. Tonight, 7:30. I’ve got thirty minutes and not one longer.”