Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
If he’s going into business with Wolfe, Zeke must be a smart man.
“You’ve already heard about it?”
“Of course. It’s a small town. Well, good luck with the new business and everything. I’m sure it’ll be great. You don’t happen to like loud music, do you?”
“The louder, the better.”
“Great. Just great.”
Chapter One
One Year Later
Cherry
I can’t wait to shower and get this gunk out of my hair. The annual Halloween party at Annabelle’s big house up on the hill was a ton of fun. That woman knows how to throw an epic party, and this year was no different.
The theme was the roaring twenties, which meant I got to wear a pretty, sparkly dress, a bunch of makeup, and plaster my hair with hairspray in precise waves around my face. Don’t even get me started on the glitter.
All the glitter in the land.
So, the first order of business after that fun party is a long, hot shower.
It’ll be the perfect way to end a great night. I don’t usually stay up until almost midnight, certainly not when I have to work so early the next day, but it was worth every minute I stayed up past my bedtime. In addition to a fantastic evening spent with most of my friends in my little town, I got a couple of good digs in with Zeke, too. And from the look on his too-handsome face, it irritated the hell out of him.
No regrets.
Since he’d moved in over a year ago, Zeke and I have settled into a nice routine of mutual dislike, verbal jabs, and looks that could kill at fifty paces.
I’m still bitter that he bought the condo out from under me. But more than that, I’m tired of watching so many people like him move into my sleepy little town and try to change it.
Just last week, he complained to me down by the mailboxes that there isn’t a decent place to get Mexican food without driving fifty miles.
People think they would love to live here, but then move in and do nothing but complain because it doesn’t have the conveniences of the big city.
It’s annoying as hell.
Blowing out a breath, I open my music app and choose soothing songs to listen to during my shower. Next, I light a candle that I made myself and offer for sale online, and then turn on the water to let it heat up.
Humming under my breath, I make a trip to the linen closet to grab a towel and a hair wrap. Once I’ve stripped down and hung my dress in the closet, I return to the shower.
It’s not steamy yet, but it’ll get there, so I step in and shiver.
“That’s cold.” Moving out of the direct line of the spray until it heats up, I decide to start with shaving my legs.
But the more I lather them up, the more I realize that the shower isn’t getting any warmer, no matter how far I turn the nozzle to the red side.
“Shit,” I mutter. “Is the hot water out?”
I step out of the shower and wrap my towel around myself. Without thinking, I stomp out the front door, shaving cream running down my legs, and mascara streaking my face, and head over to Zeke’s apartment to knock on the door.
A few seconds later, he opens it. His eyebrows climb in surprise when he sees that it’s me and takes in the state I’m in.
“Is your hot water out?”
“Huh?”
“I was trying to shower,”—I gesture to myself—“and I don’t have any hot water. Is yours out, too?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“Shit, it’s cold out here.” I start to bounce in place, leaving a little shaving-cream-laced puddle on the floor, and scowl at him. “Check your water, please.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” He shakes his head and smiles as he leans on the doorjamb and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying himself as his eyes journey down my wet body.
“If you laugh at me, I’ll poke your eyes out.”
“Have you always been such a violent woman? Look, each unit has its own hot water heater, Cherry. It’s not like when the electricity goes out for the whole building.”
“Damn it. The one night a year that it’s not going to be a quick shower, this happens. I hate cold showers.” Shivering, I start to turn and slosh back to my place.
“Use mine.”
He offers so easily it makes me blink.
“You don’t want me in your shower.”
“I don’t mind.” He shrugs as if he has women in his shower all the time—which he probably does. “Seriously, go get your stuff. I’ll start it for you.”
I stay planted where I am and narrow my eyes at him until he huffs out a breath and physically turns me around.
“Go. Get your stuff. I’ll leave the door open for you.”
I should decline, suck it up, and just take the cold shower. But it will take me at least three shampoos to get all the gunk out of my hair, then I need to condition, and I don’t want to do all of that in cold water.