Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Now, I had no choice but to go back out and get some food into my empty belly, or I might very well perish from low blood sugar.
“Noooo,” I groaned, slamming the fridge closed with impatience.
Dropping Mr. Feathers onto the counter and bending down to grab a can of his cat food out of the bottom cabinet, I glared at him.
Mr. Feathers purred as he wound his way through all of my kitchen appliances, excitement over his impending meal giving him a little more spring to his step.
Grabbing his bowl out of the sink, I washed then dried it before opening the can and dumping the disgusting contents into the bowl, even going as far as to nuke it for twenty seconds to ensure it was warm enough for him.
He purred loudly as I placed it onto the counter in front of him, then promptly devoured it like a lion does his kill.
“Pig,” I muttered, walking back to my purse and grabbing my keyring.
Keys in hand, I exited just as quickly as I’d entered, hurrying past all my neighbors’ doors and getting lucky twice in one night.
“Score!” I cried happily as I ran down the stairs to my truck.
I was just to the door when I happened to look in the mirror, then promptly winced.
With nothing else to do about my appearance now, unless I wanted to brave the hallway again, I got into the truck, ignoring the way I looked, and hurried out of the parking lot.
Instead of going to the grocery store, though, I went to the diner.
I was hungry now, and I knew if I went to the grocery store while I was hungry, I’d buy everything in sight. Not to mention, I would then have to make at least ten trips up and down the stairs, and Lord knew I didn’t want to court the inevitable come-ons from my male neighbors as I did it.
It was a tossup, though. Especially when I pulled into the parking lot of the diner and saw the familiar red fire engine taking up the back row of parking spots.
But I wanted a burger, and the diner was one of the only places in town, besides Whataburger, that served a burger at this hour.
Whataburger was out. My eyes had gone to the parking lot on the way past, and I knew that wasn’t an option.
“Shit,” I said, praying my good luck would hold, and today wouldn’t be a day that PD was on shift.
Unfortunately, my luck ran out.
I knew the instant I walked inside that PD was there.
He was always at work, which was a huge part of why we broke up.
On top of him taking a job with the SWAT team, he never said no to someone who wanted him to take over their shift. If he was off, it never failed that someone asked him to take over. And if he hadn’t managed to fill his free time with a shift, a fucking SWAT call would drop, taking him away from me anyway.
And ugh! My clothes!
I looked like a trashy woman!
Seriously, could I have worn anything worse?
But I couldn’t help it that I still had my work clothes on, could I?
No.
I couldn’t.
So, sucking in my gut as well as my courage, I walked into the diner with my head held high.
You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.
Well, mostly.
I played a good game.
Keeping my eyes forward since I knew he was there, I kept walking, being careful to not look at anyone or anything but where I intended to sit.
Which was right in the front, so I wouldn’t see anybody looking at me.
That way, when people spoke or looked, I wouldn’t have anything to look at but the door.
I’d learned, over the years, how to protect myself.
Not that Kilgore was as bad as Uncertain, because it wasn’t. It was just ingrained at this point in my life not to bring any more attention to myself than was needed.
I’d also learned to steel my heart since Dean had left.
The man that was currently sitting in the back of the room with his friends and colleagues from the fire department.
A year ago, had this happened, I would’ve turned around and left. I wouldn’t have been able to make it through dinner knowing he was right there.
That was when I was broken, though.
Dean Uriel Hargrove—call me Dean and Dean only because Paula Deen aka PD isn’t something I want you to call me—had ripped my heart out and declared me too soft for his lifestyle.
But he didn’t know.
Nobody knew.
And when I tried to tell him, he’d given me soft, pitying eyes and sent me on my way without another word or glance back.
That was the day that that version of July Roxanne Amsel ceased to exist.