Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Mandy gripped his bare forearm. “Don’t go. Please.” The yearning in her face, the loneliness, was so palpable Jack found himself blushing, not for himself but for her. She barely knew him—they’d exchanged only a few words before today. He understood she didn’t want him per se, but just a warm body—someone to hold and admire her, someone to fill the emptiness she must feel to proposition the handyman.
“Mrs. Williams, I—”
“Mandy.” Her grip tightened, her long red fingernails grazing his skin.
“Mandy.” Gently he uncurled her fingers from his arm and stepped back. “You’re a beautiful woman. I just don’t do that sort of thing. If I did, you’d be first on the list.”
Mandy threw back her head and laughed, a high musical peal, though there was no joy on her face. “Well, at least you’re gallant. I’ll give you that.” Her mouth curved down, making her suddenly look her age. “Faithful to little wifey to the bitter end,” she sneered. Tossing her blonde hair back, she sniffed. “Well, that’s your problem, not mine. I’ve got the plumber coming later.”
It took Jack a moment to understand the implication of this statement. Mrs. Williams’ voice was cold. “What do I owe you?”
“You’re paid in full, ma’am. Your husband paid me last week.”
“Oh Jesus, so it’s ma’am now. Get out. Go on. Just go.”
Jack went.
~*~
He meant to drive home but found himself instead driving in the direction of Will’s place. The cell phone sat beside him in the cab, no missed calls or voice messages in evidence. Maybe he’d freaked Will out with his drunken declarations of affection. He could barely remember what he’d said now, but he knew he’d waxed on ad nauseam about how much he liked Will and liked doing things with Will and liked being with Will. He had probably sounded like a goofy teenager. No wonder Will had sent him home.
Well, he’d put it to rights. He took a detour as he neared Will’s neighborhood, stopping at the Italian bakery Will had taken him to the night before. He pointed at the empty cannoli shells behind the glass. “I’ll take six of those, please.”
His mouth watered as the woman squeezed the fresh sweetened ricotta from a pastry tube into the delicate fried wafers. She placed them in a small white box and beamed at him as he paid for his purchase.
“You were here last night. I remember you.” She pointed in his direction with an empty cannoli shell. “You like my cannoli. You’re a good boy.” Jack grinned at her use of the word boy though he supposed it was all relative. She looked close to eighty, her small dark eyes nearly lost in folds of wrinkles, thinning white hair pulled back in a bun, revealing strips of pink scalp.
Her smile was friendly, her eyes twinkling with pleasure as she watched Jack lift a cannoli from the box and take a bite, his eyes closing in ecstasy. Her accent was thickly Italian and gravelly with age. “You can’t even wait to get it home, eh? You save some for that handsome boy you had with you last night, okay?”
Jack felt his cheeks heat, though he doubted she considered the two of them lovers. Not that they were. Jack shook his head. He was going to drive himself insane with all this nonsense.
As Jack drove, he again glanced at his cell phone on the seat beside him, wondering if he should give Will a call before just showing up. He might not be home. Or worse, he might be home with someone else.
Jack slowed as he turned onto Will’s street, still trying to decide if he should call first. As luck would have it, Will was in his front yard, kneeling in front of one of the flowerbeds pulling up weeds. Deciding this was a good omen, Jack pulled his truck into the driveway and cut the engine.
The sun was warm in a clear blue sky, and Will had taken off his shirt. He turned at the sound of the truck. When he recognized Jack, his face broke into a radiant smile and he waved. He stood, brushing the dirt from the knees of his jeans. Jack couldn’t help but admire his broad bare shoulders and well-defined pecs and abs.
He climbed out of the truck and walked toward the garden. Will met him at the driveway. “Hey there. I was going to call you later. I assume you got home okay last night? I felt bad afterwards, sending you home with maybe too much alcohol in your system. I would have called this morning but I, well to tell you the truth, I chickened out.” He grinned sheepishly and looked down at his bare feet.
Jack didn’t know how to respond to this. Instead he held out the bag of pastry. “I brought more cannoli. I have to confess, I bought them more for me than for you.”