Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
It takes her a moment to get her feet under her and steady herself. Then she shuffles through a doorway behind the counter.
I watch the spot she just vacated and replay her words. You’re one of mine now.
The sentence pokes its way through the shield I put up to keep people away … just as she did.
Even though I’m sure her words were a Southern slang or term of endearment kind of thing, they still feel good. And despite my natural reaction to shrug them off, I let what she said sit with me for a minute. Because no one has ever laid claim to me like that.
“Judy, you’re something else,” I mutter as I look around the shop.
Racks of shot glasses and bells with pictures of the beach painted on them are for sale near the cash register. I walk around the corner until I see a rack of little bracelets. They’re obviously not actual gold or silver, but they’re dainty and have little charms on them.
I finger through the line of dangling chains until I see the third one from the end. It’s a pinkish-gold color and has a tiny little succulent charm hanging from it.
“I prefer rose gold. But I really don’t love expensive jewelry. I’m always afraid I’ll lose it, and the stress isn’t worth it to me.”
My jaw works back and forth as I replay Larissa’s words to Danielle last night.
“I’m actually graduating in May with a degree in landscape architecture. I was afraid I’d end up hating it by now, but I think I love it more every day.”
I lift the bracelet from the display and turn it over in my hand. It’s silly and costs a whopping fifteen dollars, but it reminds me of Larissa. It’s delicate and pretty and makes me smile when I hold it.
“You’re fucking stupid,” I mumble to myself.
“Where did you go, Hollis?” Judy calls.
I walk around the corner and see her standing by the cash register. She’s holding a box.
“I’m right here,” I say.
“Here.” She presses a box big enough to fit an entire cake into my hands. “I made you a snack for later.”
“You didn’t have to make me a snack.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Judy …” I look at her warily.
She shushes me with a wave of her hand. “You call me Judy again, and we’re going to have a problem. I’m Grandma. I told you that. Don’t make me get a switch.”
I can’t make sense of her or the craziness inside me—least of all rationalizing all of it at one time. So I laugh and ignore as much of it as I can.
“Well, at least let me pay you for it. And my sandwich and this bracelet.” I hold the jewelry up in the air. “I’d like to get this, please.”
She smiles. “For your girlfriend?”
I give her a playful warning glare. “No. For my friend.”
She winks at me. “But I need to make sure she’s good enough for you. Bring her by so I can meet her.”
The box starts to slip in my hands. Luckily, I catch it just in time.
This is the first fucking thing I’ve caught all year.
Her mouth opens to talk, but the phone rings instead. “I need to get that.”
“What do I owe you?”
She swats my shoulder. “Go on. Enjoy your day. And come back and see me before you leave town.”
I watch her walk to the back again and lift a phone to her ear. After a few minutes, it becomes apparent that she’s not going to come back. I have to wonder if it’s not an excuse to get me to leave without paying.
I sit the box on the counter with the bracelet on top. Then I take out my wallet. I fish out thirty dollars because I’m not sure the price of any of the food or what’s in the box and lay it on the cash register.
“Hollis!” Judy chastises me from across the store.
I laugh. “Have a good day, Grandma!”
“You little rascal!”
I pick up the box and stick the bracelet in my pocket. The bells chime as I leave.
Twelve
Larissa
“What do I do now?” I ask an empty kitchen.
I’ve asked myself this question a hundred times since Hollis kissed me senseless and then left like some kind of libido assassin.
My head continues to spin from his abrupt switcheroo—going from a difficult yet playful pain in the ass to a straightforward yet confusing man who I’d like to kiss me again.
And that piece of the puzzle is why it’s complicated.
And frustrating.
It’s also why I was up all damn night.
My lips stung from the memory of his being pressed against them. I tasted the heat of his mouth until the sun came up. I can still, even all these hours later, recall exactly the way his palms were prickly but his fingertips were soft as they gripped my cheeks.