Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“I have to save some of my moves for our date on Saturday. Catch you later, Lia,” he said casually, like he weren’t just leaving me there to suffer from his loss of touch. With a wave, he walked out the door.
What an ass, I thought, watching as he walked down the porch steps, unsure which ass I was referring to.
GOD, THAT WOMAN is going to drive me crazy, I thought as I walked back to my truck. I’d never really worried about anyone—except for Madison, which was in a completely platonic way—like I’ve done in the past couple of days with Lia. This woman had a magnetism about her that I couldn’t seem to pull away from—not that I’d want to anyway.
What went down with Sam earlier infuriated me. That dickhead was downright creepy and I got some bad vibes from him. In the morning, I was definitely going to call the delivery company and report him. I’d get his ass fired if it meant keeping him away from Lia.
I started the truck and drove away from her house. Not far up the street, another car started in the pitch black and peeled out. Why’d this woman have to live in the damn sticks? I’d have three locks on my door too if I lived in the middle of damn nowhere.
“Yes, I’d like to report some unprofessional behavior by one of your workers,” I told the operator on the phone the next morning.
“Certainly, sir. Do you have the driver’s name?” she asked me.
“Not exactly. I just know that his first name is Sam. He delivers my, uh, friend’s packages pretty frequently. She lives out on Nathan Drive here in Jonestown,” I supplied to her.
“Hmmm, let’s see,” she said as I heard her typing away in the background. “Huh. Can I have your friend’s name?” she asked, clearly having trouble finding what she was looking for.
“Lia Finch. Surely there aren’t that many Sams that work for you guys?” I asked the operator.
“Sir, we don’t have a Sam that works for us. Oh, here we go. Looks like you mean Jose Juarez. He’s the one who does that route,” she said. “It’s so strange. Jose has an impeccable record. He’s been with the company for several years. Are you sure you aren’t mistaken?” she asked, genuinely confused.
My heart started racing because I did not like how this was going. “No. Lady, her delivery guy is definitely named Sam. There’s no way that Sam and Jose are the same guy,” I barked at her.
“I’m sorry, sir, but there must be a mistake. I can just put in here that your friend had an unpleasant experience with Mr. Juarez. I’m sure he will be reprimanded for any unprofessional behavior,” she said, trying to diffuse my increasing anger.
“Dammit!” I yelled into the phone, not really pissed at her but at the gravity of what I was learning. “If what you’re telling me is true, then my friend has been dealing with a real fucking psycho!”
“I’m sorry, sir. If you’d like to speak to my manager, I can get him on the phone right away,” she spoke quickly.
“No, don’t worry about it. Thank you for your help,” I said before hanging up the phone.
What the fuck is going on here?
Lia said that Sam had been her delivery guy for years and this company thought his name was Jose. He definitely wasn’t this Jose Juarez—no fucking way. I sat at my desk, scratching my stubbly chin and trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
Attempting to get some work done, I put those thoughts away for a bit and checked on the progress of my houses. Most were in the slab phase, so there wasn’t much for me to do where they were concerned. I was building my own house, and that was much further along. It wouldn’t be long before I could get in there and start doing some of the custom areas myself. At least it would give me something to do besides daydream about the sexiest green eyes I’d ever seen. There wasn’t much work being done on my end since she’d maced the shit out of me. It would be nice to do some hands-on work.
After catching up on my paperwork, I decided to text Lia.
Me: Hey, babe. Hope your day’s going well. I’m just doing boring-ass work. Looking forward to our date tomorrow night. C
When she didn’t text right away, I started to think about Sam again.
Who the hell is he?
If they have no record of him, then how has he delivering packages to her all these years?
The way he acted towards her last night left a bad feeling in the back of my mind. Everything about him screamed psychotic to me. Lia was already a fragile person from what I could see. I didn’t feel like there was a need to tell her about what I’d learned on the phone earlier until I uncovered more about it.