Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21644 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21644 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
“You’re good at this,” I mention.
He chuckles a bit. “I do a lot of basic first aid as a firefighter because it’s part of the job. But if you need something more serious, like stitches, we’d be on our way to the hospital.”
My face pales. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
“No,” the handsome man says immediately. “Just a couple of scrapes. I’ll put some ointment on, bandage you up, and you’ll be good to go. How does your head feel, by the way?”
I think for a moment. “Okay. I don’t think I hit it too hard when I flew over my handlebars.”
He chuckles. “That’s good, but if you get a headache or anything, let me know so that we can get you checked out. You may need observation at the hospital if things go in that direction, but so far, it seems like nothing more than scratches.”
Then my neighbor turns back to his ministrations, those blue eyes intense. Despite having large, callused hands, his touch is gentle and with a sigh, I slowly relax on the couch.
Finally, the huge man sits back on his ankles, a satisfied expression on his features.
“I think we’re good to go,” he announces.
I nod.
“Thank you,” I say in a small voice. “By the way, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Colleen Weston from down the block. I’m your neighbor.”
He grins.
“Yeah, I know. I’m Carl Jager, and I moved here a few months ago. I’ve had a few conversations with your parents since. Bill and Judy, right? Nice folks.”
I smile sassily. “Did they talk your ear off?”
Carl lets out a surprised laugh.
“Yeah, pretty much,” he acknowledges. “I didn’t know there was so much to know about Monroe,” he adds dryly.
I giggle.
“OMG, don’t even let my mom get started on the history of our little village. Judy’s an amateur historian, and she’s spent so much time in the library looking at old reels and articles from the nineteenth century. Although, did you know that there’s a famous actress originally from Monroe?”
Carl shoots a surprised look at me.
“Really? Who?”
“Carmen Esposito,” I say triumphantly. “Who would have guessed right?”
Carl looks puzzled.
“Are you sure? The Carmen Esposito who goes around with bananas in her hair while playing that instrument with all the bells? I thought she was from Cuba.”
I grin.
“Yeah, she definitely cultivates a really exotic, foreign image, but actually Carmen Esposito was born Carmella Longo right here in Monroe. She’s Italian-American and not Cuban, but I guess Hollywood wanted her a certain way, and it was easier to go with the flow. So Carmen Esposito was born!”
Carl shakes his head, marveling at the change.
“Who knew?” he growls. “Hollywood is all smoke, mirrors and bullshit, obviously.”
I let out a giggle.
“I know, right? Plus, Carmen Esposito appears to speak only Spanish, but actually she had to learn the language as part of her gimmick. The real Carmella Longo only speaks English, and with a Jersey accent too. It’s so hysterical!”
Carl grins then.
“Well, we all have to do what we have to do, don’t we, pretty girl? Sometimes life gives us no choice.”
I smile, heat flushing my cheeks again.
“Yep. That’s what I tell myself too.”
But then the older man’s blue gaze gleams with a hidden meaning.
“Well on that note, I think we can do away with formalities, don’t you? Sweetheart, we’ve actually met before.”
I go beet red. Oh shit. What is he getting at? My mind whirls and I begin stammering like an idiot.
“Oh yes! My sister had a baby shower a while back and I think my mom invited everyone on the block,” I say quickly. “You were one of the guests.”
Carl nods, his blue eyes gleaming.
“I was,” he drawls. “But it was more than that, Colleen. I saw you hiding by the fence last night. I knew you were there the entire time. Did you think that I didn’t know?”
The words shimmer in the air between us as I digest what Carl has just revealed. Holy crap. Obviously, the handsome man’s not talking about all the times I’ve sailed past his house on my bike, or the times I’ve peeped from behind the curtains as he mows the lawn or goes for a shirtless jog. No, Carl knows I saw him and his friends enjoying themselves last night, and my body explodes in flames at the dirty memory.
“I’m so sorry,” I stammer in a whisper. “I heard noises in the yard and then went to investigate because I thought maybe you had a dog who needed help. I mean, I didn’t mean to stay that long, but once the girls showed up, and…”
Carl looks amused.
“I don’t have a dog, and I think you know that, Colleen.”
I swallow hard, hardly daring to look up at him through my lashes.
“You’re right. Yes, you don’t have a dog.”
He cocks his head, looking more amused than anything.