Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I blow out a breath in relief.
“How much do we care about this toilet?” he asks.
“In what way?”
“Technically speaking, we need to put a new wax ring down to make sure it doesn’t leak all over the floor when I turn the water back on.”
I wave a hand through the air. “I don’t give a crap about that. Pun intended. Can we just set it back on there and call it a day?”
“Yup. Grab your side, muscle woman.”
I groan as we get it lifted in the air and placed back over the hole. I’m not sure Banks really needs me for this because I don’t think I’m doing much in terms of assistance, but I don’t let go until he tells me to.
I hand him the nuts before I pick up the towel and toss it in the trash.
“You can wash that, you know?” Banks asks.
“Yeah, but where do I have to put it? Everything I own is in my dad’s garage except the bag I’m taking to Ashley’s.”
He turns on the water to the toilet. “Why don’t you just stay at your dad’s?”
My heart pulls in my chest. I squirt enough soap on my hands to be overkill and then turn on the water in the sink.
“Because my dad doesn’t live there,” I say. “He passed away a few years ago. My stepmother lives there with my little sister.”
Banks stands shoulder to shoulder with me. His eyes catch mine in the mirror. In his blue irises is a genuine sympathy that he doesn’t try to hide. It’s the counterpoint to his lackadaisical approach to just about everything else. He may not always act like he cares—but he cares.
It’s the main reason you can’t really dislike Banks Carmichael.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I take a quick breath and squirt some soap on his hands too. “Thank you. I have a good relationship with Sabrina, my stepmom. I mean, we aren’t best friends by any stretch of the imagination, but we tolerate each other and get along pretty well.”
“What about your sister?”
I grin. “She’s the best. Bethany is funny and smart, and I love her to death.”
Banks glances at me, grinning too. A rush of warmth floods my veins.
We finish washing our hands in silence. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, but I don’t. The last thing I want to do with two hours left in my apartment is get emotional.
I look up at Banks. Or find more reasons to like him.
He turns off the water, and we shake our hands dry.
“Guess that’s it,” he says.
“Whatever I owe you, charge Maddox.”
He laughs. “I already got dinner and movies out of this. I pre-negotiated.”
“And to think I thought you did this out of the kindness of your heart.”
He looks over his shoulder as we head back to the foyer. A playful grin splits his cheeks. “It would take more than the kindness of my heart to do anything to help you.”
“Fuck you, Banks.”
“Considering the reason I’m here, it looks like you need to stop fucking and finish packing.”
I open the door. “I hate you.”
“Back at ya.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he walks by me and onto the porch. “Enjoy your night.”
“I will … at Maddox and Ashley’s.”
He gasps. “You play dirty.”
“You have no idea.”
His brows lift to the sky just before I toss him a wink.
My lips twist as I close the door.
I wish I really did hate that sexy, badass, and delicious-smelling man. Life would be so much easier.
3
Sara
“Have you ordered yet?” I ask, sliding into the booth across from one of my best friends, Rebecca.
“Nope. I was waiting on you.”
La Pachanga, our favorite eatery in Kismet Beach, is slow for a Friday night. The parking lot had plenty of spots open. Usually, you have to squeeze your vehicle into precarious situations to get a margarita to kick off the weekend.
“Well, here I am,” I say, inhaling the delicious aroma of Mexican food—my favorite. “Let’s get this party started.”
“Jenny said she’d be back around in a second to see what we wanted to drink. I told her we weren’t in a hurry.”
“Nope. We are not.” Because I have no place to go, for once. “It’s weird being this lame.”
Rebecca just shakes her head, amused by my dramatics. My statement is true but dramatic, nonetheless.
My Friday nights are usually stacked with commitments. Becca, Ashley, and I generally meet for drinks at La Pachanga or Mega Pint. Occasionally, we’ll do dinner at Shade House. Once I part ways with my friends, I meet up with the flavor of the moment. Lately, that had been Joshua for a little extracurricular work activity until that crashed. I still have The Businessman, aka Brock, a man I met picking out a watermelon at the grocery store, saved in my phone. Why? Because that boy gets down to business.