Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I never wanted to be called Carmella again.
Opening the box, I took out a slice and handed it to him.
He pointed at the glove compartment. “Napkins are in there. Grab us a few.”
I did so, and he took one to hold on to the pizza while he ate it. I did the same. Never had grease tasted so good. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten anything like this. Hill had made me keep count of my calories, and I had to step on a scale every morning so that he could check my weight. I learned the hard way that sneaking around and eating food he didn’t approve of would cause the scale to go up, and if it went up more than two pounds, I would pay for it. Painfully so.
I caught myself making a sound that was awfully close to a moan, and my cheeks flushed. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about it, and I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. If he was laughing at me, I didn’t want to know.
“The closest bus station to here is about thirty minutes south,” he said. “But I’m going north, and there is one about an hour in my direction that I can take you to instead, if that’s okay.”
I wanted to go south, but I also didn’t want to make him go out of his way after he already helped me several times.
“North is fine,” I replied.
“Great. I’ll get home in time for my Maeme’s Tuesday night chicken and dumplings and banana pudding.”
The excitement in his voice made me smile. If he didn’t have such a deep drawl, he’d have seemed much younger.
“Is that your grandmother?” I asked.
“Yep. My dad’s momma. She raised me. Dad wasn’t around much due to his work, and my own momma walked out on us in the middle of the night when I was two. I don’t have much memory of her.”
I had no memory of my mother or father for that matter, but somehow, his story felt worse. His momma had known him. Held him. Taken care of him. Then left after two years. What kind of person did that?
“That’s awful,” I said before I could stop myself.
He shrugged. “Not really. My Maeme is great. She’s sweet as sugar, yet she is the only woman alive who can control my dad, and did I mention her banana pudding? Best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth. I figure there’s no woman alive who outshines her. I was a lucky kid.”
I sat back in the leather seat, finding myself relaxed for the first time since…I didn’t know when. Hearing King talk about his grandmother made me forget my own troubles.
“She sounds really special,” I agreed, then took another bite of my pizza.
King reached over and grabbed another slice from the box. “That she most definitely is.”
I finished off my slice and wiped my hands on a napkin before opening my water to take a drink. King glanced over at me then, and I lifted my eyes to his involuntarily. I could see the question in his eyes before he even asked.
“Would you get all defensive and skittish on me again if I asked what happened to your face? Because if so, then forget it and pretend I asked if you’d ever ridden a horse.”
Hearing him phrase it like that kept me from doing exactly as he’d suggested. It didn’t mean I was going to tell him who’d hurt me. But I also didn’t feel the pressure of having to tell him what had happened.
“I’ve never even seen a horse up close,” I replied after a pause. I didn’t look at him again because if he was disappointed that I hadn’t answered the question he really wanted to know, I preferred not to see that.
“Ah, that’s a damn shame. Everyone needs to experience the beauty of a horse up close,” he replied, not letting on that I’d ignored his other question at all. He would never know how grateful I was for him letting it go so easily.
“Do you ride horses?” I asked him, finding myself more curious about him. His description and about his grandmother had intrigued me.
He chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I do more than just ride. My family is in the racing horse business. We raise thoroughbreds. They’re a real work of art. It’s something that never gets old, watching one grow into a winner. Seeing it and knowing that one is going to be the one. It’s got the thing. What it takes. Something else,” he said with real passion in his voice.
Hearing him talk about something he so clearly loved made me wish I had something like that. I couldn’t remember what I liked to eat, much less what I liked to do. Having all my decisions, desires, wants taken from me and being forced to become someone Hill wanted me to be had wiped me clean. I no longer knew who I was.