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 was always interested in people’s stories. It was crazy how diverse everyone’s experiences could be. It was hard sometimes because I liked rules and structure, but humans weren’t always like that, life wasn’t always like that, and while it stressed me out, other times it fascinated me or made me like someone or respect them.
“She’s seven,” Rachel added.
“Is she loud? Sometimes I get annoyed with loud kids.”
Just as I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing, Rachel laughed. “I like you, Milo. And, not really. I mean, she’s a kid, so sometimes she’s a little wild, but she’s mostly just really fucking cool.”
“I hope I get to meet her,” I said honestly.
“I hope you do too.”
“I have ideas…about the bookstore…”
Her smile grew. “I can’t wait to hear them.”
CHAPTER SIX
Gideon
I was in the back room, stocking supplies, when I heard the bell jingle, alerting me that the door was opening. Freddy had left to grab himself some dinner, so it could be him coming back.
I looked out toward the main part of the building to see the door was open just enough for a head to stick through, which it did, all neatly styled auburn hair as Milo peeked around, his body still outside. Did he not want to come in? That looked to be the case.
He was so damn adorable I couldn’t help watching for a second while his gaze darted around, checking things out. He took a step in, paused. Then another, and pause. “Tattoo Guy?”
I set a small box down on the shelf before stepping into the doorway and leaning against the jamb. “Boo.”
“Hoo?” he said as if it was a question, and I chuckled.
“Check you out. Making a joke so bad you cried.”
“You’re lucky I tried. I typically don’t, though I make people laugh sometimes, but it’s not on purpose and it’s usually not a good feeling.”
I crossed my arms. I didn’t like the sound of that. I didn’t want Milo to ever feel he was being laughed at. “Well, those people suck.”
“I agree, though sometimes I don’t think they mean it…or realize it. People are strange and confusing, even to themselves.”
“You can say that again.”
“Most of the time I don’t like people.” His brows pulled together, small thought wrinkles settling in on his forehead. “I like you, though. That’s not normal for me—liking someone so quickly.”
I grinned, my chest feeling uncharacteristically fluttery, like there was a butterfly race going on inside. I opened my mouth to say something about being special when he added, “And Rachel. I like her a lot.”
Oh, well, scratch that whole me being exceptional; apparently, Rachel was unique too.
“That reminds me of why I came. We had the best day! I have so much to tell you. Can we have dinner together again before you take me to the hotel? I was so distracted I didn’t have time to look for another place to stay… I’m going to be incredibly pissy tomorrow, by the way. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep. I need to find another hotel. Maybe I should skip dinner with you. Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do. I can give you my good news tomorrow or in the truck since you’re driving me. Are you sure that’s still okay? Why are you grinning at me like that? It’s creepy.”
“Creepy wasn’t the vibe I was going for.”
“Did I hurt your feelings?”
I shoved off the wall. “No.” God, he was refreshing. I didn’t know another word to use for him other than that. I never knew what to expect, and everything was so damn pure with him. I couldn’t help wanting to spend more time with him, couldn’t help wanting to be his friend, and really, I hadn’t wanted much in a long time. “We can grab a quick dinner upstairs if you want. It’s your apartment, really, and you haven’t even seen it. You can tell me about your day, and we’ll figure out the sleeping arrangement.” As soon as I said it, I remembered he was a vegetarian. “Shit…hopefully we can piece together a full vegetarian meal. I don’t grocery shop with that in mind.”
“Yes, let’s do that. I’m really good at figuring out ways to eat.”
On cue, Freddy slipped inside, and Milo turned to him. Freddy was a big guy—six foot four, barrel-chested, and that long, thick beard of his. He had more tattoos than I did. They started at his fingers, crawled up his hands, arms, all the way to the top of his neck.
Milo said, “I think you should be Tattoo Guy from now on.”
“Huh?” Freddy asked, looking from Milo to me, clearly confused.
“It’s what I call Gideon. It was the name in my head for him before I met him. I haven’t gotten it out yet, but I’ve called him Gideon twice now. I’m Milo Copeland, but please don’t call me Mr. Copeland. Who are you?”