Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“What about dinner?” he asks.
“Pizza delivery?” I suggest.
Ozzy nods. “I’ll order it. What do you want on it?”
“I’ll eat anything.”
“Every man’s favorite line,” he says.
I dig my key fob from my purse and pause when his words register.
A shit-eating grin spreads across his face. “Sorry. Too soon?”
I roll my eyes. “See you in a bit. Try to keep up.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he says with a wink while bringing his phone to his ear.
I chuckle, walking toward my RAV.
After parking in the driveway, I run into the house, deposit the flowers in a mason jar (since I don’t own a vase), and ensure everything is picked up in my room. Will he be in my room? I don’t know, but a girl should be prepared.
While I’m shoving the last of my dirty clothes into the white wicker hamper, there’s a knock at the door. “Coming!” I steal sweatpants and a T-shirt from Will’s room and jog down the stairs to open the door.
Ozzy’s bent over, untying his black boots on the porch. “Do you want me to strip?”
“Uh . . .” My tongue swipes along my lower lip.
Yes. I absolutely want you to strip for me.
Loosening the laces to his other boot, he glances up at me. “Should I strip? God, you’re such a perv.”
“Stop!” I cup a hand over my mouth and laugh. “You’re obnoxious. Just go.” I point to the right of the stairs toward the back of the house. “It’s all hard surfaces from here to the laundry room. That way and to the left. Here’s something to wear while your things are drying.”
He stares at them. “Your husband’s?”
“Yes. He’s with his mistress tonight, so he won’t mind.”
“Well, he’s an idiot for not minding because I’m a messy eater.”
“So obnoxious.” I roll my eyes. “In case you are wondering, I have two roommates who are guys. Will’s an engine chief, he owns the house, and Fitz is a smoke jumper.”
Ozzy accepts the clothes with a smirk and treks to the laundry room. “Those lucky bastards.”
Ozzy has game.
“Did you order the pizza?” I holler.
“I did,” he says with the door closed.
This is weird. I don’t bring guys here, probably because I live with two. And I’m nervous because I like Ozzy despite all the questions he evokes.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask with my head in the fridge when the laundry-room door opens.
“Anything is fine.”
“Water? Wine? Beer?” I glance over my shoulder. Ozzy wears those gray sweats and that white T-shirt better than Will, or maybe I refuse to look at Will like I’m gawking at Ozzy’s muscular body.
“Beer,” he says.
I steal the last bottle and shut the door.
“Thanks.” Ozzy takes it and twists off the cap.
We stare at each other and smile at the same time, like we’re sharing a private joke, but I don’t know what it is other than I really like this man.
“Stop. You make it impossible to be serious.” Heat fills my cheeks.
“What?” He shrugs before taking a swig of his beer. After he licks his lips, he tries to give me a solemn expression. “Sorry. Ask me a serious question.”
“Who’s watching Lola tonight?” I pour myself a glass of wine.
“Her grandparents.”
“Oh, your parents live in Missoula?”
“No. Yes. Well, my mom lives here, but she’s legally blind, so Lola can’t stay with her. She’s with my in-laws. Ex-in-laws.” His gaze slides to the side, and he hums. “Lola’s grandparents.” He scrubs a hand over his face, then drops it to his side with a heavy sigh. “I haven’t mastered this postdeath terminology. I also haven’t been on a date since my wife died, so it’s never been a big deal.”
I’m his first date since his wife died? It takes a moment for that to sink in. I prefer our flirty banter. Death is a heavy subject for a first date. “I’ll lower the bar for you since this is your first date.”
“I cleared that bar by a mile when I persevered after the torrential downpour, nearly drowning, yet still able to go forward with the night.”
I laugh.
His face sobers. “Sorry. I don’t know how to talk about my wife with a woman who I’m trying to flirt with.” Ozzy shifts his weight to his other leg and drops his gaze to his beer. “I’m off to a winning start on this date.”
I snort. “You’re the best worst date I’ve ever had.”
“That makes no sense, and you know it.” He gives me the hairy eyeball.
“It makes perfect sense. It makes as much sense as going on a date with someone I met on the toilet in the men’s room.” I nod toward the sofa and adjacent leather recliner.
Ozzy follows me so closely I feel the warmth from his body and catch the faint scent of his cologne or bodywash—bourbon and oak.
After his proximity knocks me off kilter, I clear my throat and sit on the far end of the sofa. “Listen, I don’t expect you to pretend that you didn’t lose your wife or that you don’t have a daughter. In fact, if you need someone to talk to, I’m your person. I might even throw in some memories of my brother.”