Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Hello,” I answer out of breath.
“C?” the person on the other end asks.
“Yes, this is her,” I reply hesitantly, not recognizing the caller.
“This is Pastor Ryan, down at the Baptist Church on Elm Street. Um....Well we got a situation with Mrs. Katherine Cox, and she asked us to call you. Is there any way you can come down here?
“Yes. Yes, I can, is she okay?
“Yes, she is fine, but uh...well, can you just get here as quickly as possible?” he pleads.
“Of course. Have you called her grandson, Billy?” I ask.
“No, but if you give me his number I will,” he answers.
“That's okay, I will call him and have him meet me there.”
“Okay, hold on, C.” I hear him attempt to cover the mic on the phone and then say, “Mrs. Cox, just go back in the office, dear, someone will bring you something to drink.” His hand slips from the phone and he’s back on. “Please hurry, C,” he says, talking to me again.
“I will, tell her I am on my way.”
Crap, what the hell has she gotten into now? I grab my clothes from the floor. “Jesus, I can't go into a church looking like this and smelling like sex,” I mutter, looking down at myself. Oh my God, I was talking on the phone to a pastor while I was naked... damn, that has to be a sin, right? Shaking my head to clear the thought, I focus back on what I need to be doing. I need to shower real quick. Grabbing my clothes, I run back through Linc's bedroom to the adjoining bathroom and turn on the light. What the fuck does this guy do for a living? I mean, seriously, a jetted tub that you have to step down into, which I swear would take no less than an hour to fill, sits to the left. Beside it is a large shower with glass doors. An all marble, double-bowl sinks sit along the right wall, and is that toilet seat heated? Holy shit! He has a bidet! I can't look anymore, if I do, I'm just going to go downstairs and get all my shit and move in. Sliding the shower door open my eyes go wide. It is huge, all tile with a bench that goes around the back and along one side. Stepping in, I look at the shower and all I can mutter is, “How... Why?” There have to be six showerheads scattered along the front and side walls. Some are on poles so you can adjust the height and angle of the showerhead. I can't even see a knob to turn the water on and I don't have time to figure it out. Looking back to the door, I see a robe hanging on a hook. Throwing it on I gather my clothes and run out of the condo, down to the entryway door, moving the rock to hold it open while I check the mailbox.
“Yes.” The locksmith came and the keys are in my mailbox. Grabbing the keys out, I slide the rock back to the corner of the lobby and run back up to my condo and head straight to the shower. I quickly shampoo my hair and scrub body wash on with my loofah cloth, running the cloth through my legs I wince. Dang, it’s sore, but not like my face. This is different because it makes me remember where he was and a warm, rolling sensation rushes through my core, making my thighs clench, and I can feel myself getting wet. Crap, stop thinking about it, C, you gotta get going. I rinse off in record time and run to my bedroom and dig through the boxes of clothes, grabbing a white T- shirt, fresh jeans, and sandals. I don't have time to do anything with my hair except run my fingers through it. I grab a light tan sweater, ’cause I know I will get cold going out with wet hair. I throw the keys, some money, and my phone in a small tan purse before rushing out.
Walking in the church, I find a very nervous Pastor Ryan pacing back and forth in front of the pulpit. His head shoots in my direction as he hears me come in the door.
“C?” he questions.
“Yes,” I answer back, heading toward him while looking around for Billy's grandmother. Relief washes over his face as he looks toward the ceiling like he is thanking God.
“What's going on, where's Kate?” I ask, reaching him.
“Follow me,” he answers. Turning, we go up some stairs to the right of the pulpit and through a door. Going down a long hallway he explains. “This is an awkward situation,” he states, clearing his throat, his face turning red.
“Okay, well, just start at the beginning,” I encourage.