Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“He’s coming over here.”
My heart drops right through the seat of my chair. Please, God, no. Not in front of Jeremy and Max. Not while I have a plate of lasagna. I’d like to eat my dinner, not throw it in his face when he says something rude and I fly off the handle again.
“Taylor, can I speak with you?” Ethan asks coldly.
Guitar guy stops strumming. Everyone within a five-yard radius turns to stare at me. I have to stand up.
“Sure,” I say through gritted teeth before putting my plate of food on my seat and turning to let him lead the way. I figure we’ll head around the side of the mess hall so there’ll be no witnesses to our discussion, but we only walk a few paces, just far enough that we’re out of earshot. Everyone can still see us, so I steel my shoulders and look up at him. That way, no one can accuse me of being a coward.
He’s looking down at me with his head tilted an inch to the left, one eye sort of winked in thought. Then he props his hands on his hips, puffs out a breath, and speaks.
“I’d like to apologize for what I said this afternoon.”
A record scratches.
“What?”
“It was uncalled for.”
I’m slack-jawed from shock. “Oh, okay. Well, thank you, and…” My right hand catches my left elbow and I realize I’m shuffling my feet. I immediately stop. “I’m sorry for throwing your laundry on the ground. In hindsight, it was pretty childish of me.”
He nods, turns, and walks away.
I stand there watching until he disappears inside with Robert.
Huh. That went…well?
Jeremy and Max hound me about the encounter for ten minutes. To them, it seemed like an odd exchange, definitely not a casual employer-employee conversation.
“You looked petrified,” Jeremy points out. “Like Bambi in headlights.”
Max agrees.
Seriously?! I thought I looked like a badass. I even met his gaze. My chin was raised!
“He didn’t exactly look happy either,” Max adds. “Though maybe that’s just how he is? He was a total dick when he found me talking to you earlier.”
Thankfully, Jeremy doesn’t ask him to elaborate, and we all go right back to eating our lasagna. After, we sit out in front of the mess hall talking until the sun starts to set. Some of the guys wander off to shower and attempt to call home. A few of them start up a poker game. We stay right where we are, though, listening to the cicadas and the soft strumming of Mike’s guitar. That’s his name—I know because we invited him to join us. There’s a big group sitting in a circle while he strums. Someone starts telling a story and we all listen, heads tipped back, staring up at the trees and the moon starting to overtake the sky. Most of us were born and raised around here. Even if we didn’t go to the same schools and live in the same small towns, we all had similar upbringings. No one puts on airs. No one gets offended by the sound of someone spitting chewing tobacco or the smell of a cigarette burning beside them. Even if it’s not my thing, it’s still oddly comforting. We’re all trailer trash, everyone one of us, and the thought makes me smile.
An hour later, I’m inside my new bedroom, AKA Jeremy’s truck. It would work if he had a normal bench seat that stretched from one door to the other. If that were the case, I’d be catching so many z’s right now, I’d have some to spare.
Unfortunately, Jeremy’s truck is older than dirt and there’s a massive gear shift in the center of the floor that breaks up the two seats, therefore preventing me from lying across it like a bed. My only option is to sleep upright in the passenger seat with my head angled against the window. Even with my pillow wedged between my ear and the door, it’s no use. I’m a sleep-walking zombie in the morning.
I tell myself sleep is overrated. New parents don’t sleep. Insomniacs don’t sleep. People avoiding their bosses by sleeping in trucks don’t sleep either. I greet the morning with enthusiasm, ignore the crick in my neck, and go into the day with a new attitude. Yesterday, I messed up. I let my guard down where Ethan is concerned. Even after his abrupt apology at dinner, it’s still clear he’s a coldhearted jerk. That’s fine. I know that now, and I’ll be better prepared going into today. I have to be. Ethan might not have any reason to be nice to me and help smooth over our rocky relationship, but I do. I need this job badly enough to swallow my pride, keep my temper in check, and get to work.
After I take a quick shower in the communal bathroom while Jeremy stands guard at the door, I throw on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt then frown at my reflection in the mirror. The V-neck isn’t necessarily encroaching on dangerous territory, but when you’re top-heavy, if you give your boobs an inch, they’ll take a mile. I adjust the neckline so it sits a little higher and then spray my hair so it’ll air-dry with beachy waves, and that’s that. I’m ready to tackle the day!