Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Mama is looking at me with tears glistening in her eyes. “Ah, so he is a nice boy. Nice for you and to you, which is all that matters.”
“That’s not all that matters to you and we both know it,” I challenge, carefully measuring the pointed look I give her so as not to be disrespectful.
She waves a hand dismissively. “If he is handsome enough, that is fine, and putting in pools is hard work so he must be strong, and it’s a good job so he must make a decent wage.” She’s ticking off attributes like she’s got a checklist in her mind—kind, good-looking, healthy, financially stable… check, check, check, check. “That’s all we want for you. A man who is worthy of you.”
A man who is worthy of me.
Kyle is definitely that, which is why I’ve been falling for him fast and hard and deep. Except as soon as things didn’t go my way, I let my temper flare and went back to metaphorically flipping him off, throwing up bitchy defenses, and shutting him out to handle things on my own because that’s my comfort zone.
But Kyle is as much a caretaker as I am. He tried to talk to me Thursday night and I refused to answer the door and his text. I was mean all day while they did the fence installation, and he still offered to help me. But I shut him down.
I think… oh, I think I’ve majorly fucked up.
“Mama,” I say, catching her eyes.
“What is it, Daniela? You look sad.”
“I need to go. I have something I need to do. Something important,” I tell her, my mind already spinning.
“Okay, okay… go,” she sputters, concerned. “You are okay, though?” When I nod, she takes the sponge from my hands. “Then go. But bring your Kyle over to meet Papa soon.”
I nod, hoping that I can.
I kiss my father’s forehead, not disturbing his after-lunch nap, and get in my car. But first, I send a text to Kyle… Can we talk?
I wait, but no reply comes.
My heart stutters, but then I remember who I am. I am Daniela Maria Becerra, and I don’t take no for an answer. So, alright… he chased me until I relented, and if it’s my turn to do a little chasing, I will.
Kyle Harrington has no idea of the tornado he’s unleashed by not answering my text.
I pull up to Kyle’s house twenty minutes later. His truck and Lucille are parked out front, and I steady myself so I don’t slam my car into park, march up to his door, and bang on it, demanding he listen to my apology. As it is, I slide the shifter to park, walk to his door, and knock like a mostly semi-rational person.
But he doesn’t answer.
I deserve that, I guess.
I knock again, peering through the glass in the door, but I don’t see Kyle. Suddenly, Peanut Butter jumps up on the door, scaring me. I cry out, stepping back quickly, and Peanut Butter licks the glass like he’s greeting me. “You scared me, boy. Where’s Kyle? Go get him for me, okay?”
The dog disappears, and I wonder if he actually understood me. I look through the glass again but don’t see Kyle magically appearing.
Bark! Bark! Bark!
I jump a foot in the air at the sudden, loud, and very close noise. I spin around to see Peanut Butter coming right at me. Oh, yeah, doggie door. I don’t have time to prepare before he runs into me, his nose hitting at crotch level, and then he stands up, planting his paws on my belly to lick at my face. Thankfully, I do turn my face in time and his tongue lands on my cheek as I fight to not lose my balance. “Hey, Pee-Bee, where’s Kyle?”
He barks. I take it as an ‘I don’t know’ and laugh that I’m having a conversation with a dog. I look around as I pet his head. “Hmm, how about if we go for a little ride and you can check out my house?” He barks again, and I smile. “Let’s get in the car, then.”
Peanut Butter hops down and prances right over to my car like he’s understood every word I’ve said. I open the door for him, and he climbs in, sitting still while I buckle the seatbelt around him. I don’t know if it’ll do anything, but it makes me feel better. After all, I can’t risk Peanut Butter getting hurt mid-dognapping. Once I’m behind the wheel, I lean over and take a selfie of me and the dog, both of us smiling, and send that to Kyle too.
If you want Peanut Butter back, come talk to me.
Am I insane? Maybe. But Peanut Butter doesn’t seem to mind as we drive away.
I turn into my drive and check my phone. No response. That’s okay, he’ll come. He has to, if only for Peanut Butter. But I’ll make him talk to me and listen to my apology.