Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I love my team, but we’re together a lot.
So, I found a house with a view of Puget Sound near Alki. I wonder if Sophie lives over that way, too. That would be convenient.
It’s late evening as I drive through Seattle to get home, and it’s almost dark when I pull into the garage.
I’m grateful that Pam, my housekeeper, was here today and left some lights on for me.
When I walk into the kitchen and smell something in the oven, my mouth immediately waters.
And sure enough, there’s a note from Pam on the counter.
Ike,
I made you some chicken enchiladas. They’re in the oven. Sour cream is in the fridge, and chips are in the pantry. You need more home-cooked meals!
Pam
I grin. Good ol’ Pam. She’s my mom’s age and mothers me just as much. She’s been with me since I bought this house three years ago and came highly recommended by my realtor.
She cleans once a week, and more often than not, leaves me food on her way out the door.
She’s a gem.
Before I tear into the food, I hurry upstairs and take a quick shower to wash off the sweat from the gym, pull on some athletic shorts and a tank, then return to the kitchen to feast.
I don’t even bother to put any of it on a plate. I just set the pan on the table, grab the sour cream and chips, noticing there’s a jar of salsa, as well, and snag a fork on my way back to the spread on my table.
“I need to give Pam a raise,” I decide as I take the first bite and sigh in happiness.
And my phone rings.
Dad.
“Nope.” I shoot him to voice mail, but seconds later, a text comes through.
Dad: Stop whoring around long enough to answer the goddamn phone.
I roll my eyes and call him, putting him on speaker so I can keep eating.
“I was at the gym,” I inform him with my mouth full when he answers. “What’s up?”
“I went to the dealership to trade in my truck today, and the money wasn’t there for it.”
I sit back in my seat and scowl. “Dad, you just traded in your truck last year.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’m at the end of the contract,” I remind him. “I don’t have it to give you, Dad. You’ll have to drive the old truck for another year.”
“Bullshit. After all I’ve done for you, now you’re going to be greedy?”
“You have got to be kidding me.” The words are out before I can stop them, and there’s nothing but stunned silence on the other end of the line. “I’m not a kid, and I’ve given you more than most would. If that’s not good enough for you, I don’t know what to tell you. There won’t be any more money until I know what’s up with the negotiations.”
“But, I have bills—”
“You shouldn’t,” I shoot back. “And if you do, that’s not my problem.”
I hang up and drop my head in my hands. Jesus Christ, I’m sick to death of being nickel-and-dimed by that man.
And my mom, although never asks for a thing, also won’t stand up to my dad and tell him to stop.
Because she’s afraid of him. She’s always been afraid of the son of a bitch.
I’m not going to let him ruin these enchiladas.
I finish off the pan, then set it in the sink and walk into the living room to turn on ESPN, but now I can’t stop thinking about Sophie and her sassy smile.
That gorgeous face is a much better place for my mind to wander to than thinking about my jerk of a father.
I have her number.
It’s late, but it’s not that late.
So, without giving it too much thought, I call her.
“I don’t usually answer unknown numbers,” is her answer.
“I don’t blame you. I don’t either. This is Ike, by the way.”
“I hope so because otherwise, I’m hanging up.”
“So, you were hoping I’d call?”
She scoffs, but I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “I don’t know about that. What are you doing?”
“I just ate a pan of enchiladas, and now I’m calling you. What are you doing?”
“You ate the whole pan?”
“Hell yeah. It was delicious.”
“I’m actually a little jealous. I was just making a list of what I need to do for work tomorrow.”
I scoot down on the couch, getting comfortable and enjoying the sound of her smoky voice. “What do you do for work?”
“You can google my name sometime. You’ll find me. Mostly, I’m a nutrition coach and an influencer.”
“Like, on social media?”
“Yes.”
“That’s pretty interesting. You’ll have to tell me more about it sometime because I have no intention of googling you. I’d rather hear about you from you, Sophie.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I always do. Do you live in the Alki neighborhood?”
She pauses, and I smile.
“I’m just making conversation, not trying to be a creeper or anything. And I’m hoping that you’ll be running again so I can see you. Maybe we can even go for a run together.”