Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
From what I could see—which admittedly wasn’t much since she was wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt—she did look to be in shape.
“Where do you work out?” I asked curiously.
She curled her lip. “Home. Or used to. That ex-boyfriend I was avoiding all night? He had a home gym that I used. But ever since we split, I haven’t been doing anything but running, and God, I hate running. It’s the bane of my existence.”
I chuckled. “My gym is on First Street. It’s nothing pretty to look at or anything, but it has all the equipment. But they don’t have AC, so that’s something that you’re going to have to consider if you’re interested in working out there.”
She shrugged her shoulder, causing the baggy t-shirt she was wearing to slip slightly, revealing a black sports bra.
She absently yanked it back up over her shoulder and said, “Honestly, I don’t really care if it’s hot. I mean, you’re supposed to be sweating, right? So yeah, that wouldn’t bother me. What would bother me if it’s in a bad part of town, or if it’s not lit well… a single lady has to be careful. Even if I’m fit, I’m not strong enough to fight off an attacker.”
I tilted my head. “Had experience with that?”
She shrugged. “Once or twice.”
I wanted to ask her more about that subject, but she looked like that was a hard ‘hell no’ so I chose to change the subject completely.
“You recently broke up with your boyfriend… have you had any luck finding accommodations?” I paused. “Because let me tell you, I haven’t. I’ve had a fucking really hard time. I’m talking, living with my ex for the last six months kind of hard time. And I’m about to pull my fucking hair out.”
Her eyes widened. “I haven’t had a chance to look… but you’re not inspiring any confidence in me when you speak like that.”
I shook my head. “I know fuckin’ everyone in this town. There’s not a single apartment to be had in this entire godforsaken city. Ever since that stupid TikTok video came out…”
She knew what TikTok video I was talking about.
A TikTok douche had come to our town and shown our secrets—i.e., our lake, our beautiful area, our badass hiking trails, and mountain bike trails. Then, when he’d shared that stupid video on the damn internet, everybody and their fuckin’ brother had flocked here. Now, we had more people than we had housing, trash was dirtying up our lake and our trails, and I was getting more and more upset by the second.
The woman looked at me with disgust, and it was then that I realized that I’d never caught her name.
“I purposefully chose this specific area because it wasn’t anywhere near where I work,” she grumbled. “And I have seen more people, and more trash, and more phones and cameras and posing girls, than I have wanted to ever see.”
I tilted my head to look at her curiously. “Where do you work?”
And what the hell is your name?
“I work for the airlines in Dallas,” she admitted. “Started there about four years ago as an ‘in-between’ job, and it ended up being way more than that.”
“As a flight attendant?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yep. I meant it to be for a ‘little while’ and it ended up being my ‘all the time’. I wouldn’t say that I want to continue to do it for the rest of my life, but it’s definitely something that I want to do until I find something that really piques my interest. Plus, it allows me to travel whenever I want to. Wherever I want to. If I see a shift that needs picked up to the Bahamas, then I pick it up and enjoy it for a day before leaving.” She tilted her head. “What do you do?”
This was the hated question.
People always wanted career guys.
People wanted someone that had a career path in mind and was working to better themselves.
But that wasn’t me.
I liked making my own hours. I liked doing what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it.
Hence the reason I’d chosen my particular career path.
“I own a yard maintenance business,” I admitted.
Her brows rose. “Really? I thought that was more of a kid thing. Is there any money in it?”
I snorted. “Fuckton. I have forty yards that me and my crew do every week. Most of them are no less than four hundred dollars. I also do landscaping, pool maintenance, and dirt work. I’m a busy fuckin’ bee and make a shit ton of money doing whatever the fuck I want to do. If I don’t want to work that day, my crew takes my yard. Easy peasy.”
She pointed at the table and then said, “Kind of like right now. If you don’t happen to get to bed until seven in the morning, you can sleep the day away and not feel bad about what you’re doing?”