Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“You wouldn’t!”
He grins deviously.
“I would. Imagine the clacking of the foosball poles. It’d be great, right?”
With that, I dissolve into giggles because there could be nothing worse than a pool table and a foosball table taking prime spots in the middle of this beautiful condo. But then I get serious.
“Okay, well if you don’t mind, then I’ll definitely start researching some interior design themes. Do you have a favorite color?”
“Red.”
I stare at him.
“Really?”
He nods.
“Yep really. Why?”
I shrug.
“I just see you more as a blue or green type of guy. Or maybe even grey.”
He snorts.
“No, I’m a red person, honey. The color of passion and intrigue,” he says in a dramatic tone. That makes me laugh again and I loosen up even more. It’s not so hard to be around Jethro, come to think of it. Maybe this won’t be so bad, and I nod.
“Okay, I’ll start with red accent pieces, how about that?”
He grins.
“I trust your judgment, Jess.”
But then I cock my head at him.
“Where are you from, by the way? You don’t sound like someone from Nevada.”
The handsome man grins again, flashing bright white teeth.
“Where do you think I’m from?”
I think for a moment.
“Well, definitely not from the South. And you’re not from here right? Because very few people are actually from Vegas.”
He grins.
“That’s right. I grew up in New Jersey. I’m a Jersey kid all the way.”
I nod.
“Oooh, the East Coast. Nice. I’ve never been there, but I want to visit.”
Jethro chuckles. “Well, be prepared to bring a big coat if you come in the winter because it snows. Hail sometimes, too, which you don’t see out here.”
I shiver a bit, just in anticipation. “OMG, I can’t even imagine. I’ve never left Nevada actually. Not even to go to California, believe it or not.”
Jethro stares at me.
“Seriously? You’ve never been to LA? But it’s just an hour away!”
I nod.
“Yeah, but my family can’t afford the plane tickets, and for some reason, we never really got it together enough to coordinate a car trip. So I’ve always been in Nevada.”
He whistles.
“Wow, honey. Disneyland is so close though.”
I nod ruefully.
“I know, and now I’m too old to see Mickey and Minnie! Well, I’m not too old. I suppose it’s more accurate to say I’ve aged out, that’s all.”
He cocks his head at me.
“So what did your family do for fun?”
I shrug.
“There are lots of things to do without getting a four hundred dollar pass to Disneyland. My parents were big on camping and hiking in the desert.”
“That sounds nice, if a bit dangerous.”
I laugh.
“It’s not if you know what you’re doing, and I learned to appreciate nature. Besides, even if we didn’t have much, my parents always made sure I had everything I needed. Even now, they try to help me out when they can. Obviously, I haven’t told them just how much I was struggling because I didn’t want them to worry. I’m an adult now, and it’s time to stand on my own two feet,” I say in a firm voice.
Jethro looks thoughtful.
“That’s very brave of you, Jessie, and you definitely don’t need to worry them, now. Hell, maybe you’ll be able to help them and not the other way around.”
I nod. “Maybe,” I say noncommittally. “We’ll see.”
With that, the conversation turns to lighter topics and we banter playfully about food, the desert, our jobs, and even current events. It’s easy to talk to this handsome man, and I lose myself in the laughter and witty dialogue. Even more strange, everything about this feels right although we basically just met. But that’s before our real arrangement begins because only then, will my mettle be put to the test.
7
Jethro
I walk into the condo after a late afternoon shift at the club, and the smell of garlic hits my nose immediately. Oh wow, this is incredible. Things have worked out even better than anticipated with Jessie because my girl is a wonderful chef, and insists on cooking dinner for us each night. I stroll into the kitchen, and sure enough, the curvy girl’s decked in an apron at the stove.
“Wow, honey, that smells amazing.”
She giggles a little and turns. The apron has a red and white check with a logo that says, “Bless this Mess,” and aptly, it’s covered in red sauce. She laughs.
“I thought I’d make us some homemade spaghetti and meatballs. You do like meatballs, don’t you?”
I nod and grin, putting my bag down.
“Hell yeah. All sorts of meatballs too made from ground beef, ground pork, chicken, hell even those balls made from chickpeas. What are they called again?”
She grins.
“Really? You like falafel?”
I grin.
“Hell yeah, that stuff is good.”
She giggles.
“I never would have guessed. You seem like more of a strictly meat type of person.”
I shake my head.
“No, you’ll die if you do the Atkins diet. All meat is bad and clogs your arteries, not to mention putting humans at a higher risk for stroke. If anything, I’m all about falafel.”