Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Fine,” I say, giving up. “I’ll let it go. But I don’t want him fuckin’ with my dogs. Whatever he’s doing, he can leave them out of it.” I look Collin in the eyes. “Fair?”
Collin nods. “Fair. I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks.”
Then I turn and leave, but Collin says, “Hey. Before you go. Got any complaints about how you’re feelin’?”
I turn back to him, squinin’ my eyes. “What?”
“The drinks,” Nash says. “It’s Monday. They’re coming this afternoon so we gotta decide if we’re gonna drink them or not.”
“Oh, right.” I pause here to think about how I’m feelin’. Then shrug. “I don’t feel any different. How about you guys?”
They both shake their heads. “Nope,” Collin says. “I feel OK.”
“Then it’s settled, I guess.” I leave the house rollin’ my eyes about the drinks and still kinda agitated about the interloper, but once I get in the truck King is there. Sittin’ in the passenger seat like he’s my best friend and despite a natural urge to remain sour, I smile instead.
Dogs. They are the salve for the wounds of men.
Thirty minutes later I’m just entering Revenant when I decide to stop at the diner to kill some time and have some breakfast, since King and I are way early for our vest-fitting appointment. Even if it wasn’t Revenant, I could take King inside any establishment I wanted to because he’s a service dog. So I snap a lead on him and we go inside for some pancakes. He likes pancakes.
I’m standing at the cash register waiting to be seated when all of a sudden, I spy Rosie Harlow across the diner. Her long, brown hair is pulled up into some kind of messy beehive thing and she’s wearing a pink waitressing outfit reminiscent of the ones they used to wear in the old days. The whole thing really works because she is truly looking very cute.
Rosie’s pouring coffee and chitchatting with the customers at her table, so she doesn’t see me right away. But once she turns and our eyes lock, her mouth goes up into a grin. And as she walks over to me, it grows wider.
“Rosie Harlow. What the hell are you doing?”
“What do ya mean? I’m working.”
“You work here?” I point at the floor.
“Sure do. For the past two years. Only Monday mornings though.”
“Monday mornings? That’s it? How does that make sense?”
Rosie cocks her hip and her shoulder at the same time. “Well, I didn’t have anything else to do on Monday mornings. So why not?”
“Is that what you do then? Fill up every bit of empty space?” It wasn’t meant to come out serious, but it kinda does.
Doesn’t faze Rosie, though. “Maybe. Table for”—she looks down at King, then back up at me—“two?” We both laugh. “Let me ask you something then, Mr. Nosypants. How come you’re bringing a dog to breakfast with you instead of a woman?”
Oh, she walked right into this one. “Because the woman I’m interested in is standing right here in front of me.”
Rosie smiles. Maybe even blushes a little as she grabs two menus and turns on her heel. “Follow me.”
She seats us at a booth, putting one menu down in front of me and the other across the table, like she knew King was gonna jump into the opposite side of the booth—which he does—and I think it’s kinda fun that she gave him a menu even though he doesn’t read much.
Rosie stands there for a moment, like she’s got something to say, but can’t quite find the words. In another moment she’s gonna give up and just walk away, so I preempt that with an answer to the question she hasn’t yet asked. “Because I like you.” Then I hold up a finger so I can tick off a list. “You’re fun. You’re pretty. You’re industrious.” This makes her huff, but it’s more of an incredulous laugh than some kind of exception to my characterization. “And we’re friends, right?”
“I suppose.”
“You’re not seeing anyone, right?”
“I’m not. That’s correct.”
“And I’m not seeing anyone. So…”
She’s not convinced. “I dunno, Amon. Are you telling me we should date because we’re leftovers?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying the timing is right, when maybe in the past, it hasn’t been.”
“Oh, please. You never took any notice of me at all before you got back.”
“That’s because I was gone twelve years, Rosie. And you were very fuckin’ pregnant, not to mention fifteen years old, the last time I saw you.” Again, I have a flash of memory of her standing in the cafeteria when her water broke, that look on her face like her world was ending. “You know what though?” I say, because she and I were looking right at each other that day twelve years ago and I think she’s remembering that right now. And I don’t want her to think about that day, even if she did get a baby boy out of it. Something bad was happening to her and it had nothing to do with the baby. Something else that I don’t know about.