Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
It was nearing twilight when I finally pulled up in front of my house with the rest of our group.
“I don’t want to go home,” she murmured over my shoulder to me.
Today had been bad. I didn’t want to spend the night alone, either.
The bad wrecks always got to me like that, though. Never before had I had someone to lean on, though. Someone to ask to stay.
Hence the reason I invited her to stay at my place.
“Then stay with me.”
She blinked.
“I left my house unlocked, and I don’t have any clothes,” she hedged.
I grinned.
“I know the way back to your house,” I told her. “And I also know that I have room in my saddle bag for a few changes of clothing.”
Her eyes widened.
“I know you have to go to work tomorrow night,” I explained. “You can change your clothes into your daily wear, and then put your uniform on that night. That way you won’t have to go all the way back home just to change.”
She stared at me for a few moments, then nodded once. “I think I’d like that.”
Chapter 8
Home is where I can stand in the kitchen, naked while eating peanut butter, and rapping an old-school Ludacris song and not be judged.
-Text from Naomi to Sean
Naomi
“I didn’t realize that you lived in a trailer,” I murmured as I walked in the door of Sean’s RV after running by my house for an overnight bag.
Well, if that was what one would call it.
“It’s an Airstream,” he informed me. “What’s cool about it is that it’s made out of old jet materials.”
“What?”
“During World War Two, the government forced the manufacturer of the Airstream to shut down production because the aluminum that was being used to make them was in such high demand. Hence the ‘jet materials’ comment,” he explained as he started flipping on lights.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what I saw.
“It looks like a mini apartment on wheels,” I breathed. “This is beautiful.”
Sean dropped his keys onto the table that was poking out of the corner of the room, and I followed suit with my own purse and keys.
The interior of the trailer was pleasant. Almost as if it were done with the intent to sell it. The easiest and most pleasant to appeal to both men and women.
“Did you redo this?” I asked.
I eyed the dome shaped walls and roof that were lined with aluminum. The couches were nice. A nice warm brown leather that looked like they’d accept me as a part of it if I sat down right now.
Then there was the sink. A full farmhouse sink took up what minimal countertop that there was, with one of the largest faucets I’d ever seen.
The stainless-steel countertops were even cooler, rounding out the whole industrial look perfectly.
The sight of Sean’s bed, though…that was where I wanted to be.
I wanted to lie down on that white down comforter, bury my head under his pillows, and never get back up again.
“Take a shower first,” Sean said, practically reading my mind. “Wash the dirt of the road off your skin. I like my bed clean.”
I turned and stuck my tongue out at him.
“You’re an ass,” I said, but sat down on the kitchen chair that was one of two next to a postage stamp sized dining room table. “But I like you anyway.”
Sean moved to the kitchen sink, washed his hands, and then dried it on a towel that said ‘I like Big Tits.’
“Nice towel,” I observed dryly. “Where can I get one for myself?”
He grinned. “My best friend from high school got it for me. He has a quirky sense of humor.”
I could imagine.
Though, I really did like the towel. I had a few shirts that were vulgar.
Like the one I brought to change into.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked as I slipped my first boot off.
He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting the top off of and tossing the lid in the sink. All the while he kept his eyes on the fridge as he examined its contents.
“I can grill some chicken. Fry some chicken. Or we can have sandwiches.”
Fried chicken sounded amazing.
“What do you feel like doing?” I questioned.
He looked at me.
“I don’t care, to be honest,” he admitted. “The easiest thing is sandwiches, but I’m starving, and I’d have to have four at this point to fill me up.”
My mouth twitched.
“Chicken.”
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I knew you were going to pick that. Knew it!”
I shrugged. “I’m hungry. And honestly, I had a sandwich for breakfast.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll help you cut the fat off the chicken if we can have mashed potatoes.”
He smiled that smile that could bring me to my knees. “I can do that.”
I took a quick shower, changed into clean clothes, and we worked in his tiny kitchen, brushing up against each other as we moved about.