Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
“Fucking shit, this is terrible. I hate to say it, but her website is currently down. There’s a banner about her bakery being out of business. Is that true?” I’m thrown for a loop. I’ve got half a mind to turn my truck around and go back to Maeve’s, except she might have done this last part herself.
“Not sure. I’ll find out later tonight when I’m at her place.” We’ve yet to talk, and our chat needs to happen. Kissing Mae and leaving her wasn’t my brightest idea, but I had to leave or else I’d have stripped her naked and laid her flat on the nearest available surface, and then neither of us would have gotten any work done.
“Find out. I’ll forward all of this to my guy and see what we can do,” Fletch says before adding on, “I swear, if I wanted to hang up my gun and retire, I’m thinking you Johnsons could keep me flush with work.” He doesn’t say dick about payment, though. He refuses it any time we offer to pay him or anyone who helps out along with him.
“You’re not wrong. Appreciate your help, Fletch.” Hopefully, Lawson is at the stable when I get back to the ranch. I’m going to have to talk to him about what’s going on because one thing I know about my brother and Fletcher is the two of them talk every chance they get. I’d rather Lawson hear it from me first than secondhand.
“Anytime. I’ll call or send a text when we get something.” We disconnect as I turn onto the dirt road heading toward home. Now that I’ve gotten a few things taken care of, it’s time to work, and then head back into town to see Maeve.
EIGHT
MAEVE
“What a month this week has been,” I say into my empty rental home. I’ve thought about going to the animal shelter and seeing what they have up for adoption. A dog would probably be out of the question with my crazy hours at the bakery. I’d feel bad leaving them locked in my small rental house while I’m at the shop for twelve hours a day. I even thought about bringing them to the store with me, except I’d have to keep them away in the small back room. So here I am, talking to no one except myself. I’ve gone back and forth with adopting a cat instead, only I find reasons to hold myself back. Clearly, I’m not ready to be an animal mom of any kind.
I go to the kitchen. Maybe food and a drink will calm my nerves and help me to not overthink every single moment. I’ve already dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and now that I’m on my way to the kitchen, I’m doing the weird dance and juggle to take my bra off. I’m not ready for a shower yet, but my shoulders hurt from either wearing this torture device or the amount of stress I’ve been carrying lately. More than likely, it’s a bit of both. I wiggle around after unsnapping the latch at my back, pull the strap through an arm hole, and do the same for the other side. Finally, it comes out of my shirt, and I fling it over my shoulder. I’ll deal with it later.
I’m reaching for the refrigerator door when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I refuse to turn the ringer on. It’d go off non-stop with the “Sisters before Misters” group chat with Maddie and Michelle. Not to mention the other group chat with us girls and our parents, aptly named “If I ever need a kidney.” I’d like to say those names are my doing, but they aren’t. Maddie is the genius with a side of sense of humor. The vibration buzzes again, which is usually code for our family chat. Mom always has her phone within reaching distance. I pull out my phone, glance at the screen, and sure enough, Mom must be hammer-fisting the keys with one text after another in our family chat, and it’s all directed at me.
Mom: Mae
Mom: Maeve
Mom: Maeve Oliver
Michelle: For the love of God, please answer her.
Maddie: Where’s the fire?
Dad: Your mother won’t stop. I’m about to throw her phone in the toilet.
I take a deep breath before responding. She must know about Whisked Away. I’ve only told my sisters and now JW. I shouldn’t have, but my guard was down and I needed an outlet. What can I say? I’m me and need to overthink and overtalk any and all situations until there’s a solution to the problem.
Me: Yes, Mother?
Mom: Don’t you Mother me. When were you going to tell us about Whisked Away being in trouble? You know we’ll help.
Dad: This is a conversation for another time. You know, face to face like normal people, not through a piece of technology.