Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I looked up. Cal looked away. Then looked back, unable to stop himself. A wave of heat rippled down my body, making every inch of my skin throb, my groin tighten, and my breath catch. I’d always been self-conscious about my curves. I’d had my breasts ogled by men but I’ve never felt sexy, or alluring, or any of those things that seem to come so naturally to other women. I’d never felt special.
Until now. When he looked at me that way, I felt every one of those things.
That was when Rufus decided that now was the right time for a good shake. Both of us yelped and twisted away as we were sprayed. It broke the tension and when I looked at Cal again, he’d finally managed to avert his eyes. I dried my feet on the grass, put the socks and plastic bags back on and we set off.
The sun rose even higher and our clothes gradually dried. After another mile or so, I thought the trees were starting to thin out. And a mile after that….
I drew in my breath as we emerged onto a road. It was a dirt road and only two lanes but it was a road...and there was even a telephone line running alongside it. On the far side was a tiny, tumbledown garage with a faded hand-painted sign that read Tucker’s Garage. There was even a car filling up at the pump.
I was shocked at how much my heart leaped, just at the tiny hint of civilization. A day ago, I would have thought of this place as backwoods: now it felt like we’d arrived in Times Square. We made it!
I started across the road, then realized that Cal wasn’t with me. I looked back and saw him standing at the edge of the woods. He was looking at the road and the gas station with distaste, like an animal unwilling to venture out of its natural territory. How long has it been, since he came to the edge of the woods? Weeks? Months?
I hurried back, grabbed his hand, and squeezed it. “It’s okay,” I told him. “I’ll be okay, now. You don’t have to come any further.”
He looked away as if embarrassed that I’d noticed. When he looked at me again, that protective gleam was back, stronger than ever. He squeezed my hand and that silver string went tight and strummed, sending a hot swell of emotion through me. Then he was marching me towards the gas station.
At the door, Cal pointed to the ground and Rufus sat down next to the no animals sign, looking disgruntled, then started noisily drinking from the water bowl the owner had put there.
The place was old enough that an actual bell tinkled when I pushed open the door. It was a small store: a rack of car parts, some shelves of candy, drinks and chips, and an aging TV up on the wall showing a news channel. Behind the counter, a man in his seventies with gold-rimmed glasses, a thick white beard, and an impressive potbelly looked up from his crossword. Tucker, I guessed.
For a second, he just blinked at me. I’d stopped thinking about what I looked like, but now I glanced down and took it in: loose hair full of bits of leaf and pine needles, a torn, muddy, old-fashioned dress stained with river water, Cal’s huge plaid shirt and plastic bags on my feet. Tucker looked as if he had about a million questions. Then he looked behind me and they all vanished.
I frowned, confused. Then I turned and saw Cal. He’d had to duck to get through the door and now that he straightened up, he loomed. He was scowling and, combined with his size, it was intimidating as hell. I hadn’t seen him like this since….
Since Seattle. Since he was last around people. He didn’t like people, glaring and scowling to keep them at bay.
I looked at Tucker again. He gave Cal a shaky nod of recognition and swallowed nervously. So Cal had been here before...that made sense. And if every time, Cal had been like this, of course Tucker would be scared. He’d never gotten to know the gentle giant I knew. My chest ached. That’s so sad! Why was he like this? Because he lived way out here in the wilderness and wasn’t used to human contact? Or—
I froze. Or was it the other way around? Was it that he hated people so much that he’d isolated himself out here? But that made no sense: I’d seen pain in his eyes, not hate. And he’d gone out of his way to help me.
“Lady needs to use your phone,” Cal muttered. He’d loosened up so much with me, during our journey, that it was jarring, hearing him be so gruff.