Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“That’s how I see it anyway. You’re a beautiful woman, Kelly, and you came from your mother. So of course she’s quite pretty in an objective sense. But attractive? Not at all. Beautiful? Not even the same galaxy as you.”
He uses one hand to tilt my chin and then brushes his lips over mine. “Now, can I make that coffee?”
I nod.
He rises and pulls me into a stand next to him. I want to melt into him, let him embrace me, but I don’t.
Not yet.
Maybe over coffee, I’ll tell him about my mother.
That’s what I was going to do anyway.
Will he run away screaming?
I can’t blame him if he does. I come with a hell of a lot of baggage. But I’m feeling something for this man. A warm and cozy feeling like I’m wrapped in a cashmere shawl and protected from the world.
And I think…
Maybe I am.
35
LEIF
“How was your first night at work?” I ask as I fill the coffee maker with water.
“It was good, actually,” Kelly says.
“Are you working again tonight?”
“Actually, I’m not. The restaurant starts the new servers working every other night, to get us used to the hours and being on our feet for so long.”
“That’s good, since you probably didn’t sleep very well in the hallway.”
“I don’t know. I was in some kind of deep sleep when you shook me.”
I look down at my shin. “No kidding. I’m going to have a nice bruise.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
I’m amazed at how quickly and easily the words I’m sorry come out of her mouth, but I choose not to mention it.
“It’s all right. You didn’t mean to, but no more sleeping in the hallway, Kelly. I mean it.”
“You didn’t answer your door,” she says.
“Have you heard of a little thing called a telephone?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. But I didn’t want to talk on the phone, Leif. I wanted to talk to you in person.”
“If you had called me, I could’ve come home.”
“Would you?”
“Of course I would’ve. You’re my job.”
Her lips turn into a frown. “Right. I’m your job.”
I sigh. “You’re more than just a job to me. That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.”
I smile then. “You will be the death of me, Kelly Taylor.”
“I don’t want to be.”
“Then let’s make a pact. Here and now. We’re going to be nice to each other. We’re not going to make assumptions about each other. If we have questions, we will ask. If we don’t like the answers we receive, we won’t lash out.”
“I can’t promise I won’t lash out.”
“Yes you can. You can, and you can mean it.”
“All right.”
“Good. Now we have an understanding between us. No more lashing out, by either of us. That includes me.”
“When have you lashed out?”
“Hundreds of times.” I smirk. “All in my head, of course.”
She smiles. “I’m a real pain in your butt, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. But I don’t mind you so much.” I grab two mugs out of the cupboard. “Tell me about your first night at work.”
She rattles on then, talking animatedly—more animatedly than I’ve ever seen her. “Over a thousand dollars in tips. I can’t believe it. And the restaurant pays us the tips in cash. Of course, they also made me fill out a tax form, so it’s not like I can keep all of it.”
“No, but you can keep about seventy percent of it. That’s pretty good for a night’s work.”
“Yeah, absolutely. Especially since I don’t have any expenses. At least not yet.”
“The Wolfes will let you stay here as long as you need to.”
“I know that, but I hate taking other people’s money. I hate taking help. I’ve been on my own since the day I turned eighteen, and I—”
“Since the day you turned eighteen?”
I know her story. Her mother kicked her out of the house when she turned eighteen before she was finished with high school. But I want to see if she’ll tell me. Confide in me.
“Well, yeah. Aren’t most people on their own at eighteen?”
“It’s the age you become an adult. But I get the feeling there’s more to your story.”
“When you were researching my mother… Just how much did you find out?”
“I found out the two of you were on food stamps when you were a kid. I found out that there are no records regarding your childhood, meaning social services was never called.”
She looks down.
I tip her chin up. “You can tell me, Kelly. Please. Tell me.”
“You’ll think less of me.”
“Why would I? No child is responsible for anything that happens to her. It’s all on your mother, Kelly. Every bit of it.”
“That’s not true. Sometimes kids can be bad.”
“Absolutely. When I misbehaved, I was punished. But there’s a difference between punishment…and abuse.”
She swallows. “I’m not sure I know that difference.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know what your mother put you through, but I promise you were never that bad.”