Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
That was true. The human mind often finds the easiest explanation for everything. That was why most of the population didn’t believe in ghosts, because they explained away any instance of paranormal activity as something else—something tangible, something real.
My smile grew.
Mostly because I liked that Reagan was spouting off one of my most favorite lines in the world. Making your own assumptions about things is the way of the world. Unless they have concrete facts—like research—they’re not believing it.
I also noticed that she hadn’t made a move to leave, even though the threat to my person was gone.
“So, do you believe in ghosts?” I asked, a smile on my face.
“Oh, Lord,” Alana moaned. “Please don’t.”
Reagan turned to me. “What do you mean? Actual ghosts? Or unexplainable things happening like objects moving of their own accord? What kinds of ghosts?”
I grinned. “Anything. Everything.”
“I believe that there is such a thing as a ghost,” she nodded. “I had this friend and whenever she’d walk into her house, the reception on her cell phone went out. Clocks didn’t work in her house, either. The baby monitor didn’t work and if it did happen to work, it picked up the neighbor’s monitor. It was the strangest thing. But…that was it. It did make me wonder, though and I researched it a little bit when I was seventeen or eighteen. From there, my curiosity grew.”
I grinned. “If you weren’t such a pain in the ass, I’d ask you out on a date.”
Henley snorted. “Tyler here is a paranormal freak. He likes to blame things that shouldn’t happen on ghosts.”
I shrugged unrepentantly.
There had to be an explanation for the unexplainable. There had to. There was a reason for everything.
The baby in my hands started to cry and I did what any man would do…I gave her to her mother.
The moment my hands were free, I reached for the last roll, dipped it deep into the butter and moved it to my mouth.
My eyes closed as the deliciousness hit my tongue.
I didn’t eat like this often…but when I did, I did it up.
I’m talking like eighteen rolls, a huge, forty-ounce steak, some macaroni and cheese, a big ol’ glass of sweet tea—oh and dessert—a big slice of apple pie.
By the time I’d finished my meal a half an hour later, I was well and truly stuffed—and Reagan was looking at me like I’d just done the impossible.
“Where do you put it all?” she asked, letting her eyes roam up and down my body.
I grinned.
My sister, however, answered for me.
“Tyler is a health nut ninety-eight percent of the time. The other two percent he reserves for Texas Roadhouse and Mom’s lasagna. Good luck trying to get him to eat like this with you any other time,” Henley said as she stood up.
I handed the waitress my card and she took it.
By the time Henley and Alana had all their children ready to go, the waitress was back with my card and the bill. I signed it and left a huge tip.
“Wow,” Reagan said when she saw the fifty-dollar tip. “Big spender,” she teased.
I shrugged. “She’s pregnant.”
“And Tyler is a sucker for pregnant women. Any other time, he would’ve left a normal tip, but he sees someone pregnant? He’s going to go out of his way to help her,” Alana butted in.
I rolled my eyes.
“Why?” she asked. “Pregnant women are just as capable as regular women and even some men. What’s the difference?”
Henley handed the baby over to me again and I cradled her in my arms.
“Mainly because our mom was pregnant with Tyler when she was in nursing school, alone and struggling. She was pregnant when Alana’s father left her. She had to do it all on her own while she was pregnant and that left a big impression on a young Tyler’s mind,” Henley said as she hefted the car seat.
Alana took the car seat from her hands and then reached for Autumn’s hand. Autumn took it from where she was standing next to her mother’s side and started to walk as Alana spoke over her shoulder.
“Tyler’s not as bad as he seems,” Alana explained as she weaved her way through the tables. “But…you have to get past the crusty outer shell to get to the nice guy underneath.”
Reagan gave me a look that clearly said she didn’t think there was a nice guy underneath my layers.
She was right. There wasn’t.
It was just that sometimes my conscience got the better of me and I stepped over the line of mean and into nice territory.
Needless to say, I tried not to do that very often.
Being nice led you to doing things for people who didn’t appreciate it.
“I’ll have to remember that,” Reagan said dryly. “Y’all have a good day.”
With that, she left, not once looking back.
“Oh, I like her,” Henley said.