Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
I left the tear where it was and forced a smile onto my face. “Hello, Mr. Rhodes.”
“You’re on time again,” he stated before taking a step back.
I guess he was letting me in. “I didn’t want to get in trouble with the principal,” I told him with a side look, joking.
Nothing about his expression changed.
I didn’t let him get me down as he closed the door and then headed down the hallway toward the living area, aiming straight for the table again. I set the plate down in the middle, Amos’s gift next to it, and watched as he pulled out the same chair I’d sat in the night before, then taking out the same one he’d been in and settling into it.
Maybe he wasn’t Mr. Warm and Fuzzy, but he had some manners.
I beamed at him as I took the seat and plopped the notebook down before pulling my green pen out. “Thank you for letting me come over again.”
“I owe you, don’t I?” he asked, eyeing the round object wrapped in white tissue paper critically.
Could I tell him what it was? Sure. Was I going to? Not unless he asked.
“That’s what you keep saying, and I sure could use your help, so I’m going to take advantage of it.” I winked at him before I could stop myself, and fortunately he didn’t frown. Instead, he just pretended I hadn’t.
Smoothing out the page I’d left off on with my notes the day before, I scooted my chair in a little closer. “I have a million other questions.”
“You’ve got twenty-nine minutes.”
“Thank you for keeping track,” I joked, not letting him get me down.
He just kept right on looking at me with those purplish-gray eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.
He really did have some impressive biceps and forearms. When the hell did he work out?
I stopped thinking about his arms. “Okay, so… camping. Do you know what the hell a tent hammock is?”
Mr. Rhodes didn’t even blink. “A tent hammock?”
I nodded.
“Yes, I know what a tent hammock is.” He might as well have called me Captain Obvious from his tone of voice.
I eyed the cookies for a second and snatched one up. “How do you use one? What kind of trees do you hook them up to? Are they practical?” I paused. “Do you camp?”
He didn’t answer my question about whether he camped or not, but he did listen to my other questions. “You put the hammock between two sturdy trees,” he offered. “Personally, I don’t think they’re practical. There’s a lot of wildlife around here. Last thing you want is waking up to a bear sniffing around your site because most people don’t know how to properly put their food away, and even with a good mummy bag”—what was a mummy bag?—“the rest of you is going to be too cold most of the year. There’s only about two good months here you could pull one off. Depends on where you’re going camping too. I’ve been up at 14,000 feet in June before with layers on early in the morning.”
“In June?” I gasped.
That chin with its cute cleft dipped.
“Where?”
“Some of the peaks. Some passes.”
I was going to need to ask for specifics. Maybe later once I was walking out. “So hammock tents are no good?”
“Seem like a waste of money to me. I’d say get a tent instead and a good pad. But if someone’s got the money to throw away, go for it. Like I said, bears are curious. They’ll run, but after you, each scare the hell out of each other.”
I really needed to get some bear spray. And never let my aunt find out about curious bears. She had started sending me texts about mountain lions now.
“What kind of bears are there?”
“Black bears, but they aren’t always that color. There’s a lot with brown and cinnamon fur around here.”
I swallowed. “Grizzlies?”
He blinked, and I think I might have seen part of his mouth quiver a little. “Not since the 70s.”
I didn’t mean to, but I whistled in relief, then laughed. “So tent hammocks are stupid unless you really want to use them and have the money to spend and are willing to put your life at risk. Got it.” I scribbled down part of it, even though I doubted I’d forget. “So tents….”
He sighed.
“Okay, we don’t have to talk about tents if you don’t want to. Where do you recommend going camping? If you wanted to see animals?”
Mr. Rhodes ran a hand through his short, salt and brown pepper hair once before crossing his arms over his wide chest again, bringing to attention the way his pecs were squeezed together on his lean chest.
How old was he?
“This is southwest Colorado. You can go camping in your backyard and see a fox.”
“But other than a backyard, where? Within an hour from here?”