Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Oh, good. You have to be there at noon.”
“Noon. Got it. I’m going to get in the shower. Do you need anything?”
“No. Thank you, Kennedy. I’m so glad that you’re here.”
My shoulders fall. Now I feel guilty for thinking the worst of her. But in my defense, meddling should have been her middle name. It’s her favorite pastime. “I’m glad I’m here too. We have a baby shower at the manor Sunday, but nothing else, right?” I just want to make sure I stay on top of the manor’s schedule, along with taking care of Grandma and maintaining my editing schedule. It’s a lot more to juggle than I’m used to.
I take my time in the shower and let my mind drift to Declan. I haven’t seen him since Sunday. We’ve texted a few times, but that’s it. He did ask me to dinner on Wednesday night with the two of them, but Grandma had a late doctor’s appointment, and we stopped to eat afterward. She’s been cooped up in the house.
He asked about this weekend, and I said maybe. I know that I’m divorced, but it feels wrong to have these kinds of feelings for a man so soon after a divorce. And not I’m-in-love-with-him feelings, although Declan would be easy to fall in love with if the time I’ve already spent with him is any indication.
It’s the chemistry between us. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. If he’s close, I want to be next to him. And the blushing. Dear lord, I’m a grown woman. I should not be blushing, yet when Declan is around, I can’t seem to control it.
Then there’s the way my heart races, my palms break out in a sweat, and there is an ache between my thighs. These are all new concepts for me when it comes to a man. Just another glaring reminder that Lyle and I never should have married.
Speaking of my ex-husband. Well, we just were not meant to be. I haven’t spoken to him since the night he dropped by with the papers letting me know our divorce was final. I should be upset about that, right? Instead, all I can think about is Declan and how I feel like my younger self anytime he’s nearby.
After finishing my shower, I take extra time to get ready. I tell myself it’s because I’ve been lounging around all week, but it’s a lie. I don’t know if I’ll get to see Declan today, but I’m going to his shop, and that’s more than enough motivation to put a little extra into my appearance.
I find Grandma in the living room crocheting. “Whatcha making?”
“A baby blanket.”
“For Palmer?”
“Not yet. I don’t know what they’re having. Do you?” she asks.
“No. I don’t think they know yet.”
She nods. “This one is for the hospital. I like to make them and donate them to the new families.”
“That’s really sweet of you, Grandma.”
She smiles. “I love to crochet, but I can only make you so many scarfs, sweaters, and blankets before your house is overflowing.”
“Good point.” She’s not wrong. I have so many items that she’s made for me, but I can’t part with any of them. I love them all so much, knowing they were made with love from her. Not only that, but I know she’s not going to be with us forever. There will come a day that she passes, and I’ll have every single item she’s made me to remember her by. Not that I’ll need them. Grandma Maureen is not someone you can easily forget, but I’ll feel like she’s there with me. I already do when I’m at home, and she’s here. Her presence is all over my house.
“Do you need anything from town?” I ask her.
“Not that I can think of. Take your time, dear. The key’s on the hook by the door.”
“Thanks, Grandma. I’m sure an oil change won’t take long. Call me or text me if you think of something.” I bend down to kiss her cheek before grabbing my purse, sliding into my coat and boots, and heading out the door.
To Declan.
I find his shop easy enough. Willow River is a small town, and his garage is right on the main strip. I also found Orrin’s body shop and Palmer’s photography studio. The Kincaid family has roots all over this town.
The lot of Kincaid’s Auto Repair is jam-packed, but I’m able to find a spot in the back. Pulling down the visor, I check my hair and the light makeup I put on. I don’t want to look eager, but I also want him to take notice. Making sure I have my purse, my phone, and my keys, I climb out of the car and head inside.
The chime on the door alerts whoever needs to know of my presence. A tall guy with shaggy brown hair and his face covered in something black that looks a lot like grease pulls open a service door and peeks his head inside.