Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
His stupid mouth is still almost smiling and looking very kissable. “Not when you’re intoxicated it doesn’t.”
I have to keep Sadie in the loop, so she doesn’t feel left out. It’s no fun being the left out one. “He wants me to have his babies. He’d make pretty babies.”
Sadie looks at Noah. “Are you sure you’ve got her?”
Noah grasps my elbow and propels me toward the truck. My arm goes all tingly where he touches me. All of me goes tingly. I think Noah Maple might be magic. “Yeah, she’ll be fine with me.”
Sadie leans in and buckles my seatbelt. “I’ll call to check on you in the morning.” Then she leans close and whispers in my ear. “Be good for Noah and let him be good to you.”
Her words make my eyes wet. “I need another donut.”
“Soon.” Noah promises as he gets into the driver’s side. “Let’s get you home.”
Noah likes to sing. He softly sings along to all the songs on the radio. It’s not fair that he’s pretty to look at and sings pretty too.
One song is about a boy who falls in love with a girl that he doesn’t want anyone to take. He glances at me as he sings. He’s frowning as the traffic light casts a red glow on his face.
“Don’t you look at me,” I tell him as he starts the truck forward. “You get squinchy around your eyebrows and it makes me want to kiss you.”
He chuckles. “Can’t say I’d object to you kissing me.”
“No! Kissing leads to babies. No babies.”
Noah turns on a dirt road where there are no lights. Just the stars overhead. “Why no babies? Do you not want a family?”
I sigh and explain, “No family wants little Lizzy. She’s not pretty or smart or outgoing.”
Noah takes my hand. His callouses scrape my palm as he squeezes gently. “I want Lizzy. She’s the smartest, prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”
Chapter 5
Lizzy
Iroll over in my bed and crack an eye open just as a drum solo wakes me. I touch my head gingerly when I realize the sound is coming from my pulsing migraine.
“I’m never touching wine again,” I mutter as I struggle to my feet.
Mr. Darcy meows at me from his perch in his cat tree.
“Don’t judge me,” I tell him. “It’s not my fault the cowboy is so good-looking.”
Wait, did I see Noah last night or was that just part of a dream? It had to be a dream.
After I shower and fix my wig and makeup, I stumble into the kitchen.
Walt is already there. He looks up from the table where he’s browsing The Courage Chronicle. It’s weird to see someone reading an actual newspaper, but I guess that’s the way it is in a small town. “You look like horse shit.”
“I feel it, believe me.” I reach for the carton of eggs in his fridge, cracking several into a frying pan. I like cooking breakfast for Walt. He always tells me how good my food is. The happier I make him, the longer I’ll get to stay.
He studies me as I work, but I pretend I don’t notice. If I’m here this morning, then I must have seen him last night. He’s probably the one that drove me home.
“Sorry for anything I said when I was drunk. I’m not…I don’t normally…” I let my voice trail off. I’m not like my mom. That’s what I’m trying to tell him. She had substance abuse issues. She was usually high on something. That’s why I was taken away from her and put in the system. As a kid, I never understood why she didn’t love me enough to stop using.
Walt chuckles. “No apologies needed. You barely said two words. By the time Noah brought you in, you were tuckered out.”
I drop the spatula and turn around to stare at him, open-mouthed. “Noah brought me home? Noah Maple?”
He nods. “Boy seems sweet on you.”
“He’s delusional,” I groan as flashes from last night slowly come back. I think I told him he was pretty. I think I wanted to kiss him.
“He’s a good boy.” Walt stands from his seat at the table to grab plates for our breakfast. He winces as he does. He tries to hide it, but I see it.
He has a problem with his hip. I told him he should see a doctor, but he always says he’s fine. After every shift at the bookstore, I find him in his favorite recliner with a heating pad pressed up against his hip.
“Why don’t you let me run the shop today?” I offer. It’s my day off, but if I stay around here, the only thing I’ll be doing is nursing a hangover. I might as well go to the shop.
He sets the table as he says, “Can’t. I got shipments coming in today.”