Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“I’m working on it. I’ll let you know soon.” A slow pink crawled up his cheeks.
Damned if I didn’t need him to say yes.
CHAPTER FIVE
Milo
I hated this hotel. Like, if I knew I wouldn’t hurt anyone or go to jail, I would love to burn the whole thing down. I’d have to be super positive about avoiding incarceration because no way I could survive it. And also the keeping-people-safe part because the thought of hurting someone made me want to vomit. But the point was, this was the worst hotel there ever was.
That was all I could think about as I waited for Gideon to pick me up and take me to the bookstore.
My face burned hot, the heat traveling down to my stomach at the thought of him. Gideon was nice. We’d talked all through dinner the night before, and just like he’d promised, we’d made it quick so we could leave when the Lighthouse still wasn’t too busy. He didn’t complain when I told him I wanted to go and didn’t question it when I asked for two bills—because we weren’t on a date and we were still figuring out if we were friends, so I didn’t want him to pay for me like he’d asked.
The conversation had continued to flow as we’d walked back to the bookstore and piled my things in his truck. When he’d dropped me off, he offered to pick me up this morning, and oh, that was another problem with this hotel. It was too far from the store. I could get a car service, but I was worried about how reliable they’d be and how many options there were on a small island like Little Beach.
My phone buzzed, and I knew without looking that it was Mom. My hunch was quickly proven correct.
Are you still ignoring me?
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t ignoring you. I told you I would talk to you later. I’m waiting for Tattoo Guy to pick me up. Oh! And Wilma Allen had a lover! I’m talking with him today too! I’ll call you tonight. Promise.
I wasn’t surprised when a reply came back almost instantly. What is up with this tattoo guy? What’s his real name?
I sighed. Gideon Barlow. I can take care of myself.
And when his black truck pulled up in front of the Sleepy Island Lodge, I couldn’t help smiling. I hiked my bag up onto my shoulder, walked over, and climbed in. “Their breakfast is terrible. Have you ever tried it? It’s omelet day, and they ruined omelets. How do you even do that? I understand they’re hard to get perfect, but these were rubbery. Eggs should never taste like rubber.”
He chuckled, a rich laugh that was unexpectedly soothing. “Does that mean I’m in danger of hangry Milo?”
“Yes, also lack-of-sleep Milo. The bed squeaks, and the mattress is too firm. And it’s very loud at night. People walk and laugh down the hall at all hours. I tried to sleep, and when I couldn’t, I read for a while, then tried again. It didn’t help. I need another hotel. I don’t know if I can handle it. Actually, I just need to rent a house…or an apartment. I don’t need a whole house just for me. Do you think there are many apartments available?”
Tattoo Guy had already pulled away from the curb and was driving. He frowned. “Honestly, apartments are hard to come by on the island, but technically, you already have one.”
“You live in it, though.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not yours. It wouldn’t be fair of me to sit comfortably in something you own while you suffer in a hotel where you can’t sleep. Or for you to deal with the struggle of finding something else.”
“It wouldn’t be fair of me to take your home either. You live there. That would feel gross.” My gaze darted from his eyes downward and—“Oh my God! You’re wearing shoes! Did you do that because of me?”
He cocked a dark brow before returning his attention to the road. “I was wearing shoes yesterday.”
“I don’t think you were. Those were toe-torturers. Don’t your feet feel so much better safely tucked away in sneakers? Not that they were necessarily bad toes, but we went over this yesterday. Also, the drop of a hat originated in the nineteenth century when it was how they’d begin a fight. They’d drop a hat and then shoot.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. I probably should have known that.”
“I thought the same thing! I can’t believe I didn’t.”
“Well, we know now.” He reached down and scratched his thigh beneath the shorts he wore. His were looser than mine, baggy but not overly so. Like, I knew that when he stood, the band of his underwear likely peeked out the top, which would be super hot.
He waved his hand. “Hello? Earth to Milo.”