Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Before we leave,” I say, taking a bite of the biscuit and the apple butter, making sure not to make a face to show him how bad it is, “I have to drop the pie off next door.”
“How come?” He takes the last bite of his sandwich.
“Because it’s the neighborly thing to do.” I don’t add in to thank him for coming out and scaring the shit out of your father and making the whole exchange a lot shorter than it would have been.
“Okay.” He gets up, taking his plate to the sink and dusting off the crumbs before placing it in the dishwasher that is full of my baking stuff. He finds a space on the top rack. “I’m going to get changed,” he announces, and I get up from my own chair and clean my plate.
“I’m going to take the pie over,” I tell him, “and then I’ll come back.”
“Okay, Momma,” he says, running upstairs to the bedroom. I wash off my hands and start the dishwasher before grabbing the warm pie and placing it in a dish so I can carry it. I step out of the house, nervously walking down the steps and heading to the street instead of going through the weeds and tall grass on the side.
I look up at the house, and I’m in awe of the beauty of it. White railing all in front of the house, and also on the upper balcony level with black shutters beside every single window in the front. Walking up the five steps, I look over to the left side where two white rocking chairs move with the light wind. Then turn to look to the right side that leads down to the gazebo part of the porch. Two beautiful wicker chairs face a wicker couch with a table in the middle.
I look up at the white screen door, lifting my hand and knocking on it. My heart speeds up with nerves as my mouth gets dry. I should have probably just left it with a note, I think when the door opens, and he stands there. His gym shorts are gone, and now he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that has the bar logo on it. His eyes pierce through the screen door, making my nerves shoot through the roof even more. My hands get sweaty as I concentrate on not dropping the fucking pie on his pristine porch.
“Hi,” I say, cutting the silence between us, “sorry to interrupt you.” I’m tripping over my words. “I came to bring you this.” I hold up the pie in my hands, and I suddenly want the floor to open up and swallow me. “It’s really nothing.” I’m still rambling, my brain telling me to shut the fuck up while my mouth just continues going. “It’s just a little something to say thank you for… the other night.”
His hand goes to the door handle as he pushes the screen door open, and I see his hair is still wet. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says, and I never realized how deep his voice is. I mean, truth be told, it’s not like I sat down and had a conversation with him, ever. His family was the Cartwrights’ archenemies, so no way would that ever happen.
“Well, I have all the time in the world since I don’t have a job.” I cringe and really want to tell myself to literally shut the fuck up. “Well, this has been fun,” I mumble and see him smirk, which lights up his green eyes. “It’s still warm,” I tell him, reaching my hands out for him to take the plate.
“Thank you,” he says, grabbing the plate from me. “I’ll return the plate once it’s done.”
“Oh yeah.” I didn’t even think of that when I was baking this morning. “No rush.”
“I’ll take it over to my dad. It’s his favorite.” I smile at him. I’ve heard his father is sick, and as someone who misses her father like crazy since he passed away, I feel for him so much.
“Hopefully, it’s as good as it looks.” I nod at him, starting to walk away but stopping and turning back. “You have a lovely home.” I really wish I had a friend with me who would pull my hand away before I say anything more. “Have a nice day,” I finally finish and walk away from him. I listen for the screen door to slam shut, but not even when I get to my house do I hear it. When I look back, he’s still standing there watching me. My stomach flips over as I walk into the house and shut the door before my back leans on it, and I close my eyes. “Smooth.” I look over to the side, seeing the living room empty. “Very fucking smooth.”