Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Fuck-us, Sullivan. Yeah, that’s what I need to do.
CHAPTER 6
Remi
Well, so far, this is going great. I’ve had about zero words from Van. He did open the gate for me, though, so I guess that counts for something.
I heave the bags down, and my sunglasses nearly fall off my face at the effort. I go to right them, making a big streak of dirt smear down my nose, a streak so big that even I can see it. “Oh my god!” I’m horrified at the whole clumsy me thing coming out front and center, but then I figure, fuck it. It’s only a streak of dirt. Perfection is highly overrated. I laugh it off and brush the smudge, probably making it worse.
Van stays wrapped up in his silence, but he steps toward me and pulls something out of his pocket. It’s a hanky. Who the hell has hankies anymore? This one is legit, too, with embroidered flowers on it. I freeze when the super-soft linen makes contact with my skin. With one quick swipe, the dirt is gone, and Van is back, pacing away from me and walking toward the car. But I can feel him all over my body like he’d cupped my face and kissed me breathless.
His scent lingers in the air after him. I’ve hit some real lows before, but this has to be a new one since I’m obsessed with the fresh, clean scent that’s sharp in my nose. It gets my lady bits fired up and makes me all shivery and twisted up inside. I want to save that scent, bottle it, coat myself in it, and have it always. I want to live in a fog of it.
Bam. Bam, bam.
Three bags of dirt hit the ground right beside the ones I set down, spurring me into action. We work side by side, emptying out the van. I wasn’t kidding about the amount of stuff I bought. Along with the gravy from the other day, Nanny pressed two one-hundred-dollar bills into my hand and told me to buy the place out.
I didn’t quite accomplish that, but I did get enough for her small flower beds back here, I’m sure. I also got a brand new shovel, which I took out last. I walk straight to the first flower bed, the largest one that spans the back of the fence, extending from the falling-down garden shed all the way to the end. I try to act like I know what I’m doing, but when I plow the shovel into the dirt, it doesn’t go anywhere. It’s like striking concrete, and the force of it vibrates up my arms and into my ribs, jarring my teeth. I glance around to see if Van saw that, and yup, judging from the way his jaw muscles are flexing, he’s clenching his teeth against a laugh.
“For the love of frozen gravy, I think this needs to be turned over by something other than a shovel and a set of hands.”
“A tiller.”
Halle-freaking-lujah, we have words!
I want to encourage that, but something tells me to address the whole elephant in the room thing first. If I get that out of the way, maybe he’ll be more comfortable talking to me. Isn’t everyone more comfortable when their companion doesn’t have an agenda?
“I’m sorry about the party,” I say, digging my toe into the grass. It leaves a massive divot in the freshly cut lawn, which is mostly dead and spindly anyway since life was being choked out of it before. I gasp and quickly try and cover it up, which only makes it worse. “It was awful. The party, I mean.”
Van sighs. I’m not looking up, but I hear how tired he sounds. “Yeah,” he agrees, the word heavy. “I wish Nanny would have warned me about it.”
“It’s kind of hard to have a surprise party if you tell the person it’s for in advance, though.”
That earns me a soft laugh, and I finally do look up. I still have my sunglasses on, and I hope they hide my starry-eyed gaze. Van’s got his hands in his pockets. There’s dirt streaked across his arms, T-shirt, jeans, and jawline, which gives him a rugged allure. Gardening looks good on him. I’d like to lick him clean. I mean, shower him clean. I mean, lick him in the shower. Damn it, just stop, brain.
“Very true. Doubly so because if I had known in advance, there’s no way I would have shown up. I spent the night dodging family and almost everyone else so that I didn’t have to answer a thousand questions.”
“Where did you hide? Under the bed?”
His eyes track to the garden shed. Now I’m the one laughing. “Oh wow, really?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. It worked great. So, what are you really doing here? Did my sister send you to spy on me?”