Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Thanks for coming. And my mom will be watching us until our vehicles aren’t visible anymore, just so you know.”
She grinned and threw her arms around my neck. “Better give her something to look at, then.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her. She kissed me back, threading her hands into my hair. As soon as I pulled away, she kissed me again.
“You know she’s literally dancing right now, right?” I asked, touching my forehead to hers. “She’s dying for me to find a nice girl and settle down.”
“It’s probably time. What are you, about forty-five?” she teased.
“I’m thirty-four, funny girl.”
She kissed me again. “Good night, Ryan.”
“Night. Drive safe.”
I opened the door to Pete’s truck and she got in, stomping snow off her boots like a pro. Then I followed her down my parents’ long driveway and back into town, reluctantly turning into the City Hall parking lot instead of the one behind the Chronicle, where she was parking.
Everything in me wanted to be with her instead of going into my office, but the investigation was too important to blow off. More time with her would have to wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Avon
“Heard you met Grady’s folks,” Bess said the moment I walked into the newsroom the next morning.
Going straight for the coffeepot, I poured coffee to the top of my mug, took a couple of sips, and then topped it off before carrying it over to my desk.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “They’re both very nice.”
I signed onto my computer and pretended to get right to work, but really I was just avoiding further conversation. I’d had a restless night of tossing and turning after getting a text from my boss Kerry yesterday evening. I was officially out of paid time off and she couldn’t keep up with my clients and her workload anymore. She gave me an ultimatum—be back in the office by noon today or I was fired.
Fired. I’d silently repeated the word to myself so many times. Not only had I never been fired from a job in my life, I’d never even gotten in trouble at work. I was a people pleaser, showing up early, working late, and never complaining.
I did what I was supposed to do every time. Until today. This morning I’d be working in the newsroom and watching the hours pass on the fish-shaped clock hanging by the door until I was officially unemployed.
Four hours to go. And then my small Chronicle paycheck would be my only one.
There hadn’t been a decision to make, really. I wasn’t walking away from the story about the irregular financial activity at City Hall. Maybe I wasn’t really a journalist and I’d accidentally stumbled onto it, but it was still something I started that I wanted to see through.
“Oh, good Lord,” Bess muttered from her desk. “Shawn O’Malley is in intensive care. That’s what happens when you go ice-fishing in the middle of the night after drinking moonshine.”
I cringed. “What happened?”
“I heard he was at a lake with some friends about an hour away from here and he fell through the ice looking for a bathroom,” Bess reported, not looking away from her computer. “But he’s never been the sharpest knife in the drawer. Even sober, he couldn’t find his ass with both hands.”
There was no appropriate response for that.
I read over my notes from interviews I did yesterday with Ida Bane, a local woman who was turning one hundred in a couple of weeks. Her keys to longevity were tacos and staying single. This was going to be a fun story to write.
I took my time with it, finishing the story and then uploading the photos I’d taken of her. There were so many good ones that it would be hard to choose which ones to use. My favorite one was of her eating a taco, with about ten more on a plate in front of her. She’d made some just for our interview, making sure to point out the importance of not skimping on the cheese.
I was a couple of hours closer to unemployment and ready to start writing another story when I saw a text from Grady on my phone. My heart skipped with excitement before I even read it.
Grady: Can we meet up for lunch at your place?
Avon: Sure. Everything okay?
Grady: Yeah. Noon?
Avon: Yes.
I frowned as I set my phone back on my desk. Since I was behind on laundry, I was wearing an old nude-colored bra with a tear in it and white cotton briefs. And lunch at my place had to mean Grady would be seeing my undergarments, if only for a quick moment.
Picking the phone back up, I texted him again.
Avon: Hey, you mean “lunch” right?
Grady: ???
Avon: Well, there’s lunch and then there’s “lunch”…
Grady: I actually wasn’t thinking about either of those.
Avon: Elaborate, please.