Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Maybe I should take on that habit more often. Minus the love for my man part…
Once I can afford to, though. If business stays this good, I could easily take a day off without feeling stressed.
Plus, it’s a bit more realistic than convincing myself every Prince Charming has me in their sights. Ha!
Feeling a little alien outside my usual routine at this time of day, I open my umbrella after double-triple checking everything’s locked up and start to walk home.
At home with free time isn’t something I’ve had a lot of since I started my business, so it should be the one thing I’m craving. It should put a smile on my face. Lord knows my own little garden of houseplants needs tending to. I’ve longed to get in there and do a ton of work.
I get the most satisfaction from plants and flowers, which is what I’m actually good at.
Dammit! I can’t stop thinking about James and the craziest day of my life. He’s still having a huge effect on me even hours after he’s left. For a guy I’m telling myself isn’t interested in me, he’s doing a bang-up job of making me feel just a little more than something, and in places I never have the time or energy to even think about.
Every time I scold myself for thinking about it, I only want to think about it more. My brain is in a James Jones holding pattern. It’s a feeling I’ve never known, despite my reaction to tell myself otherwise.
If he is interested, why not ask me out for coffee or whatever it is normal people do?
But James isn’t normal. Anyone can see that.
If I’m honest, half the neighborhood I live in isn’t “normal” either—many people with many problems. Not exactly the safest place for a girl to be wandering around any time of day.
It usually doesn’t faze me, but by the time I notice how few people are out and about because of the rain as I get nearer to my street, I get the unnerving feeling I’m being followed.
Watched.
Again.
I felt it last night, too.
It sounds crazy in a city of ten million people. There’s always going to be someone behind or in front of you, and someone watching you, even if they’re just on their way home or staring absently on the subway.
But this is different.
I turn and look maybe a dozen times on the way home, but there’s either an empty sidewalk or people doing what people do. Today it is trying to stay out of the rain.
The feeling follows me all the way home and into my little apartment. The building’s secure. I feel safe enough when I draw the bolts on my front door and check the windows.
Sheesh. Now would be a good time to have someone James’ size around. It might send a message to whoever’s been following me that there’s a man twice their size waiting to teach ’em a lesson if they keep it up. Especially if he had another one of his mood swings. I’m assuming he can deliver the goods as well as just look scary when he’s mad.
Dozens of people live in my building, but apart from Iris and Phil, I don’t really know anyone here. I moved to the city from nowheresville right before I met Iris, and that brought me to where I am today.
No family or friends back home either, so when I feel like a big, little girl in an even bigger city, I realize I have absolutely no one to turn to. I feel alone and isolated in this world.
I could call Iris, but I’ll see her in the morning.
Just keep busy. Think about anything except being followed.
Or James.
I shower and change into my around-the-house clothes, feeling a little better puttering around in my not-so-little-anymore garden, taking up most of the apartment.
I get it looking pretty nice by the time my stomach’s groaning for food. Being cashed up, it’s a no-brainer to order pizza and ice cream, resolving to spend the rest of the night binging on some shows I haven’t had time to catch up on.
But that feeling of being watched lingers, even way past my usual bedtime.
Peering out the shutters into the dark, I see the rain-soaked streets below. I can’t see anything, let alone if anyone’s lurking in the shadows. I reason if there was some kind of homicidal maniac stalking me, they’d either have got me by now or gone home because it’s just too damned wet to be out doing anything.
James is still there, bubbling under the surface of my mind until I can’t keep my lids open a second longer.
The pizza I ordered will go cold and be tomorrow’s leftovers, and the little pool of ice cream left at the bottom of the carton is no big loss.