Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“The question is…is it really that funny?”
“Gonna guess the answer is yes.”
“You are correct.”
More chuckles fill the room during the wiping of my face.
I’ve barely finished when she sweetly speaks again, “Can I ask you something?”
“Go for it.”
“Why me?” She carefully swirls the wine around her glass, eyes never breaking contact. “Why my house? Why my trashcan?”
Resentment rushes through me causing a sneer to cross my face. “Don’t feel flattered, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I don’t like sweetheart in that tone.”
Her pushback stuns me momentarily silent.
“And I wasn’t meaning to imply that I thought I was special because I know I’m not. I never am. I-”
“Enough.”
This time it’s my counter that catches her off guard.
“You are special, Jaye. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you aren’t. You are by far the most beautiful and funny and kindhearted person I’ve ever met. It’s just that-” cutting off my own voice due to pride I have no business having briefly occurs, “I don’t want you feeling good for false reasons. The truth is I do extensive recon when scouting new locations to survive in. You have the freshest trash in the entire subdivision.”
“I wish I could say I was surprised by that,” she mumbles more to herself than me. “Okay, then I have another question. Why did you leave me a thank you note? And a flower?”
“Why did you talk to me that first night?” Answering a query with a query seals her lips. “Why did you offer me food instead of hiding in your home? Sending me away? Threatening to call the cops?”
“You didn’t need jail, you needed help.”
“And you needed thanking.”
She gingerly places her glass down and quietly proclaims, “I didn’t do it for thanks.”
“I know.”
The response sparks her smile to return and my eating to resume.
After her first bite, she pipes up once more. “Can I ask you another question?”
I casually nod while using a piece of bread to lap up the red sauce.
“What did you do before you became homeless?”
Forfuckssake, did she have to go right for the goddamn jugular? Is she actively trying to kill my willingness to have a talk or is she just the clumsiest conversationalist?
My lack of a reply leads to her cringing. “Sorry. That was probably super rude. And super out of line. And you should probably know I’d make a terrible spy or detective. I’ve learned over the last couple of years I practically have no-tact when you get me talking. Or not enough to cleverly get information out of someone. I could never be Jack Reacher’s temporary partner, that’s for sure.”
“The…book guy?”
“You read those books?!”
“I’ve read some, yeah. In some fucked up ways, we have a lot in common.”
“Have you always read…suspense novels?”
“I’ll read whatever I can get my hands on. Whatever people have thrown out or the used bookstores didn’t think they could get cash for. Can’t be too picky when the shit’s free, but I do appreciate the escape.”
Jaye mindlessly swoons, “Men who read are so sexy.”
Blushing can’t be helped.
“And so fucking rare in my experience.”
The heat in my cheeks deepens as I state, “I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I could choose what I read – during my time as a grunt – I preferred biographies. Presidents. Athletes. Musicians. That sort of shit.”
“A grunt? Is that…Is that like a rock band thing?”
“What?”
“Metal band? I know there’s a difference in the two, but I don’t know all the terms. Is that slang for bassist? You being a bassist would make so much fucking sense to why I’m into you. Before Chris came along, they were totally my type. I was not so secretly that girl that liked guys in bands.”
There’s a shit ton of information to search through there; however, we’re gonna start at the most important part.
Curiosity crashes into smugness. “You’re into me?”
Being completely startled causes her to squeak and squawk and incoherently stutter until she lands on a half-ass concocted statement. “Into getting to know you more.”
“Right.” I ignore the niggling in the back of mind that informs me she’s lying and explain, “Grunt is a slang military term. I was in the army.”
“Oh!” More waves of embarrassment flood her face. “Oh, that makes way more sense. Especially considering the tattoos I saw earlier.” Thoughts back to the moment seem to color her face yet again but aren’t openly acknowledged by either of us. “How long were you enlisted?”
“Eight years. Straight out of high school.”
“Wow.” Her fork finally cuts another piece of the lasagna for consuming. “Why didn’t you keep going? Why didn’t you push to ten? Don’t you get better benefits or bonuses or something at that point?”
My body instinctively tenses.
Strains to the point my muscles ache.
Typically, this is where I would switch subjects with someone, but unfortunately for me, Jaye isn’t just a random someone.
She’s…different.
And that fucking difference is what gets me to confess. “I was injured.”