Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“A little. I was up late with James, unpacking.”
“Did you and your husband just move to town?” I ask as we start to load the cleaning cart with fresh towels and supplies.
“No, he’s always lived here, but I just moved to town a few days ago.” She lets out a single laugh, and I wonder what is funny. She must read my look because she continues, “I met James online a little over a year ago, and we decided to finally meet in person in Vegas a few weeks ago. While we were there, we got married.”
I come to a stop and blink at her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” She laughs. “Believe me, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it too.”
“I guess when you know, you know, right?”
“Yeah.” Her smile is soft and shy. “He’s the best man I’ve ever met.”
“He must be if you uprooted your whole life to be with him. Did he grow up here?”
“Yeah, he and his family own a bar in town.”
“You don’t want to work there?”
“No, his mom doesn’t like me.” She shakes her head. “But even if she did, I still don’t think I’d want to work there with him. I like having my own thing.”
“I get that,” I say softly, and she nods.
“So you’re leaving town?” she asks as the two of us begin to fold the stuff that was left in the dryer overnight.
“Yeah, Monday,” I tell her, and that same nervous, almost panicked feeling settles in the center of my chest. I know it has to do with fearing the unknown.
“That sucks. It would be nice to have a friend here.”
“You’ll find friends quickly. Everyone in town is so nice.”
“I hope so. Leaving my friends back home was the hardest part about deciding to move here.”
“Where is home?”
“Boise, Idaho.”
“That’s not very far. Everyone can come visit, and you can always go back to see them.”
“Yeah, my best friend plans to visit in a couple of weeks once we’re settled in our new place.”
“That’s nice,” I tell her, trying to hide the envy in my voice. Not even one of the people I knew back home offered to visit me when I settled here and none of them even lied and said they would try to meet up with me in any of the places I plan on stopping at.
When we finish folding the laundry and have the cart fully stocked, I take Beth with me to the office. Like always, Casey already has the list of checkouts and late checkouts waiting, so I grab it from her, and we get to work. Having her help means that we get through the rooms in record time, so at three, she leaves to go home for a few hours, telling me that she will see me later at the bar.
Having the afternoon free is a rarity on the weekends, so I decide to use my time wisely and begin packing up my room. I might not have a lot of stuff, but everything I packed into my van before I left Wyoming is now in my room, so it will take some time to get it all downstairs. Monday morning will be here before I know it, so I don’t want to leave everything for the last minute.
Going to my closet, I take out my two suitcases and open both up on the bed. I pack all my clothes except for what I’m going to wear over the next few days, along with anything else I can stuff into them before I zip them up and heft them off the bed.
Both bags are old, and the wheels on both are hanging on for dear life, so while I attempt to maneuver them and myself out of my room, I bump the doorframe as I go and stub my toe on one of the two broken wheels in the process. Yelping in pain, I bend to see the damage I did and find a cut on the top of my second toe that’s bleeding.
Great.
“Where are you going?” The barked question has my head flying up, and I find Roman glaring at my bags before he transfers that glare to me.
“I was going to start packing up my car,” I snap because my toe hurts, and I’m still annoyed with him for earlier. Limping, I turn back into my room, leaving him and my bags where they are.
“What happened?” I hear him behind me as I hobble toward the bathroom, trying not to get any blood on the carpet.
“Nothing.” I grab a piece of toilet paper and lift my foot to the side of the tub to dab at the blood. The cut is not very deep, but it’s long, jagged, and bleeding a lot.
“Shit, do you have a first-aid kit?”
“Yeah, it’s with my fine china and crystal wine glasses.” I roll my eyes, then let out a yelp when I’m spun around and lifted off my feet. My ass comes down hard on the bathroom counter, and my breath catches in the back of my throat when he grabs my ankle, lifts my foot to the edge of the sink, and then turns on the water.