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)
One by one, I carefully retrieve each flower and scan the area for a final time before climbing into my RAV.
Maren: Be still, my heart
I press send and drive my swooning heart home.
Three days and no fires. I work out at the base, read a thriller book that Fitz recommended, and play cards, idly waiting for the first call.
And when no one’s paying attention to me, I text Ozzy.
Maren: What position does Lola play?
Maren: When is her next game?
Maren: What did you tell her about me?
It takes him a while to respond because his job involves steady work.
Ozzy: Pitcher. Tomorrow. Not much.
I chuckle at his thorough reply.
Maren: A man of few words. I respect that level of minimalism
Ozzy: Twiddling your thumbs?
I laugh.
Maren: Boredom is half the job. An existential threat to my profession. Are you on a break?
Ozzy: No. My phone kept vibrating in the pocket of my coveralls, tickling my balls until I felt the need to take a piss.
Covering my mouth, I suppress a snort.
Maren: My apologies
Ozzy: None needed. What’s happening to the 2 fires at Flathead?
Maren: Letting them burn
Ozzy: Don’t get a thumb cramp. I have to go back to work
Maren: Haha! Bye
That’s the last I hear from him for the next week. And maybe it’s because he heard that I’ve been sent to Nevada for two days and back to Missoula for more thumb twiddling until I end my ten-day stint with a fire near Flathead that they don’t let burn. I’m grateful for the distraction. Fending off boredom at the bases or playing games on the tarmac leaves too much time to obsess over Ozzy.
On the first of my five days off, I let Will talk me into yard work.
“Spill,” Will says while we prune the front yard shrubs on this breezy Saturday morning.
“You’ll have to elaborate.” I cast a glance in his direction.
“Jamie said you’ve found a new guy. She baked him cookies—don’t get me started on that bait and switch tactic—and I heard he hasn’t called.”
“Sounds like Jamie spilled everything. What more can I tell you? That about covers it.”
“Since when have you gotten so hung up on a guy to the point of pretending you can bake?”
“I can bake,” I say in a high-pitched voice while flicking a twig at him.
Will chuckles. “I mean from scratch.”
“I can bake from scratch. I just don’t do it very often. For your information, there are many things I am very capable of doing that I simply choose not to do, or I choose an easier alternative.”
“That’s your problem. You must not have shown your full capabilities on the first date, and now he’s uninspired by the bar you’ve set so low for yourself,” Will says, as if he wants me to physically hurt him.
“What’s that supposed to—” I squint at him. “Is that a sexual reference? You had better not be implying that I was bad in bed, therefore he doesn’t want another date. Because I didn’t sleep with him. I don’t do that on the first date.”
Will shoots me the hairy eyeball, but I keep my gaze aimed at the shrub.
“I rarely do that on the first date. My point is that even if I would have been willing to do it, he didn’t want it to happen because he has a daughter, and he said he wanted to take things slow.” I roll my eyes. “Why must you be such a perv, William Landry?”
“I’m just trying to help by figuring out where you went wrong.” He nods to the paper yard bag, and I hold it open for him to stuff the trimmings into.
“It’s rich that my single roommate is advising me on keeping a guy interested. Maybe I should talk to Fitz when he’s done banging Jamie.”
Will laughs. “Goddamn. They’re always having sex. I’m all for making up for lost time, but I have legitimate concerns that he will snap her in half.”
I giggle until I can’t hold the bag open anymore. When I’ve caught my breath, I sigh and mumble, “I want that.”
Will eyes me.
“You know what I mean,” I say.
After a beat, he nods. “Yeah, it sucks feeling like everyone you know is married and having kids.”
I shake the bag to make more room, and when I glance up at Will, he’s examining me with a fixed stare. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That look isn’t nothing. Spill.” I use his word.
“Let’s do that thing.” He continues to stuff yard waste into the bag.
“What thing?”
“The single-roommates-handshake contract.”
“I’m lost, Will.”
“If both of us are still single in, say . . . two years, we marry each other.”
I scan his face, looking for a hint of amusement. “Are you serious?”
He shrugs. “Sure. Why not? I’m good looking, and you’re decent. We understand each other’s careers and the risks that come with them. I mean, before long, it will just be the two of us living here until I find new roommates. It will basically feel like we’re married anyway, minus the sex.”