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)
My talent works perfectly, as always. Kyle grits his teeth as he takes a deep inhale, his hands gripping the fence between us so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “What. The. Fuck.”
When he looks back up at me, there’s an age-old question in his eyes.
“Who knows why she does anything. Misery loves company?” I suggest. “It’s all I’ve been able to come up with from my dealings with her.”
Kyle shakes his head and looks over at his guys, who are making decent progress through the pool, but it’s completely unnecessary work. “Fucking bitch.” He cuts his eyes back to me. “Sorry.”
I lift my shoulders, holding up my hands to show I’m not offended in the slightest. “No worries here. I’ve called her much worse more times than I can count. On a completely unrelated note, I wouldn’t mind getting the number of your guy if you don’t mind.” I arch a brow at the implication.
He smiles, but it’s barely a hint of his usual megawatt one. “I had the inspector scheduled for today and had to call him off. He wasn’t available tomorrow, so I’m losing two full days to this shit for no good goddamn reason.” He lifts his head, peering into the blue sky like there might be answers there. “Fuck, I might have to push back the concrete delivery too.”
“Sorry. I had to go in front of the city council because of her one time. Had to stand up at that stupid podium and explain my business to a bunch of suit-types who don’t give a shit about how the lower class live or what they eat, while nearly holding their hands and reading out word-for-word how I’m not breaking any laws, and making sure they understood that I would get a lawyer if they tried to stop me, which was a total bluff. I can’t afford a lawyer.” I laugh lightly, remembering my perfectly delivered, vaguely threatening speech. “All the while, not telling them to fuck all the way off and take Kathy to hell with them.” Kyle meets my eyes, angry on my behalf now. “See, misery does love company.”
“Does that make us the sad sacks?” he teases, finally starting to relax.
“No, more like collateral damage in Kathy’s campaign to make everyone as miserable as she is,” I counter flippantly even though it’s a heavy truth. But I’m glad to see his usual good mood returning and want to keep it that way.
I understand why he’s mad. Kathy Wilson and her shit-stirring would infuriate a saint, but in this situation, there’s nothing to be done about it. Kyle’s got to take her at her word, recheck everything, and reschedule the inspection, things he’s already doing. Letting the anger fester only hurts him because Kathy’s inside, sipping her morning coffee and enjoying her day.
That was a lesson I had to learn the hard way. It’s my nature to fight, fight, fight. When I know I’m right, I’m like a dog with a bone and don’t want to give up until I’ve won. But there’s no winning with Kathy. Her joy comes from your pain, and there’s no changing or fixing that. It’s something broken in her, so Kyle has to focus on mitigating the impact of her antics and letting that be good enough.
It's what I’ve done, for the most part. After she tried every avenue and was shot down time after time, I’ve stuck to my side of the fence and she’s stuck to hers, and we occasionally throw dirty looks at one another, but that’s been it for months. Until the pool, which seems like her latest attack.
Ironically, I’m not feeling too bad about Kyle’s presence. I mean, his trucks are fucking with me for sure, but the man himself? Anger isn’t what rises in me when he comes around now.
He blinks, and I can feel a literal change in the air between us just like that. I’m not sure how he does it, but he does. “I heard Nessa this morning, you know?” I don’t respond, other than lifting my brows in a ‘so what?’ move. “And I heard you say that you couldn’t sleep and were up early.” He lays his arms on the fence, stacking his muscled forearms on top of one another as he leans my way, his blue eyes boring into mine. “Does it make me an asshole if I like knowing that I’m driving you crazy too?”
He said last night that I’ve been on his mind a lot, so it seems only fair that he’s occupying mine. “No.”
He scrubs at his lip with his thumb. I’ve noticed he does that when he’s about to say something he’s not sure he should, like he’s testing the words before actually saying them. “Last night, after I left your place, I went to my brother’s. My sister-in-law was keeping my dog, and by the time I got there to pick him up, I got the third degree about why I was grinning like a fucking idiot.”