Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Well?” Aubrey asks, impatient as ever.
“From an L.B.” I shrug, handing her the card.
She reads over it and laughs. “Looks like we’ve got another cocky bastard on our hands. Are we supposed to read his mind that he’s the L.B. that sent these?” She stares at the card, then grins. “Did I ever tell you how I met Chance?”
“Yeah, something about an Obama bobblehead?” I try to pull up the memory.
“Yeah, and his bike… it had the initials C.B. engraved, and I couldn’t help but think they stood for cocky bastard.”
I nod. “I remember you telling me that.”
“Yeah, well, looks like you got your own initials man.”
“What? You’re talking crazy.”
“No, really. We need to give him a name for it.”
“He has one. Landon Barker.”
“No, no, not his real name. Where’s the fun in that?” She thinks for a minute. “I’ve got it. Lucky Bastard.” She nods, proud of herself.
“And why is he so lucky?” I ask, knowing I’m going to regret it.
“He’s got your attention. What more luck does he need?”
I shake my head at her. “And what’s with this we stuff? We have another cocky bastard on our hands? What’s up with that? You trading Chance in?” I tease, knowing damn well that’s not even a possibility.
“We’re a package deal,” she says, not missing a beat. “He wants my bestie, he gets me, my man, and my son. He has to pass our approval.”
“Too bad he’s never going to get the chance to be under your microscope.”
“We’ll see,” she says, waving the small card in the air at me.
“Give me that, crazy girl.” I take the card from her and shove it into my back pocket. I’ll toss it later.
I don’t think there has ever been a day longer than this one. It was a quiet day at the shelter. Aubrey had to leave at lunch to take CJ to his annual checkup, which left me and the animals. We had two volunteers on the schedule for today, but they were gone by one. The entire afternoon was just me, the animals, and my thoughts. Oh, and that pesky small white envelope that still resides in my back pocket.
Aubrey lectured me before she left that it was the right thing to do to text him and tell him thank you. Sure, it was a nice gesture, but he knows I’m not interested. Still, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that it’s in my back pocket. Once I’ve pulled into my driveway, I grab my things and head inside. As I walk up the front steps, I take in my home. It’s not much, just a small two-bedroom house, one bathroom, with a little patch of grass that is supposed to be my yard. With the California sun, it’s more of an ugly brown patch. It’s not much, but it’s all mine. Well, mine and the bank’s, but one day it will be mine. Regardless of the brown yard, and the close neighbors, it still beats apartment living.
Placing my bag on the kitchen counter, I set my keys and phone beside it. The first thing I do every day after getting home is strip down and shower. I love the animals, obviously, but they don’t always smell the greatest, and after cleaning out kennels, I always feel gross when I get home. Kicking off my shoes, I head down the small hallway to my bedroom. I make quick work of stripping out of my clothes and tossing them in a clothes basket, then grab some shorts, a T-shirt, panties, and decide to forego a bra. It’s just me after all, and I’m not expecting company. I turn from my dresser and spot the small white envelope on the floor.
Landon.
It must have fallen out of my pocket. Bending, I pick it up and toss it in the small trash can in my room. There. Done. I don’t have to worry about its existence any longer. Pretending that the card no longer exists, I proceed out of my room and to the bathroom to take a long hot shower.
Showered, with my wet hair piled on top of my head, sans bra, I head to the kitchen to decide what to have for dinner. I love to cook, but cooking for one not so much. Reaching into the freezer, I grab one of the many Healthy Choice microwave dinners. Not exactly what I would call a feast, but it’s dinner tonight all the same. While the microwave does its thing, I grab a fork, rip a paper towel off the roll, and retrieve a bottle of water from the refrigerator. The microwave beeps. Careful not to burn myself, I remove the thin plastic covering, and dump my meal into a bowl. It’s some kind of chicken and rice meal. I toss the trash away and voila, dinner is served. With my hands full, I manage to grab my phone and make it to the living room without spilling everything. I settle in on the couch for a night of mindless TV. At least that’s the plan until my phone rings. I can’t help but release a heavy sigh when I see it’s Aubrey. I know why she’s calling.