Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
She sighed.
“I guess that’s fine,” she muttered. “But I didn’t bring my cart.”
I winked at her. “I’ll carry whatever you want me to carry.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’ll end up regretting that.”
Chapter 5
Soooo, are we just not doing spring this year?
-Text from Calloway to Louis
Calloway
“Ohhh!” I said as I saw the six-foot sasquatch. “I want that!”
Louis looked at the metal cut-out, then looked at me.
“I’d carry it for you,” he said. “But I honestly don’t think that it’ll fit in your car.”
I frowned. “Maybe I can come back next month and get one. And that time bring my dad’s truck.”
“Or,” he said as he walked up to it and read the price tag. “You can come with me, and I’ll bring mine.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything.
Instead, I asked, “How much is it?”
“Hundred bucks,” he answered as he dropped the tag. “They only take cash anyway. And I’m all out of cash.”
I sighed. “Do you have enough for one more funnel cake?”
He shifted the bags to one hand, then reached into his back pocket for his wallet.
When he came back up with it, he flipped through the bills left and then nodded. “As long as you don’t expect two, I can hack it.”
I rolled my eyes and looked longingly at the metal sasquatch.
“I really do want that,” I said, then turned. “And my legs are about to fall off. I want to run to one more place, but we have to get the car to do it.”
He frowned. “No.”
“Listen, Lou,” I said, giving him my big sad eyes. “You were the one that wanted to come here. We’re going.”
“We don’t need to go.” Lou looked pleadingly at me. “Seriously.”
I grinned at him and started to walk off in the direction that I thought we were parked.
However, like always, Louis realized what I was doing and redirected me to where we were really parked. “Your sense of direction needs work.”
I shrugged.
“Now, tell me how to get to Dog Alley,” I ordered.
He looked at me with concern. “Your back yard wouldn’t be able to handle a dog. I saw your fence. You’d need a completely new fence. And though I think I could hack putting one up, I know for a fact that you wouldn’t let me pay for it. And you can’t afford to pay for it, otherwise your front porch wouldn’t have so many holes in it.”
He had a really good point.
“I bought that place for a song,” I said. “When I have the money to fix it up, I will.”
He rolled his eyes in amusement. “I believe you. But I also think that you were gipped when you purchased that. I can’t believe your dad let you.”
I rolled my eyes. “My dad didn’t let me do anything. I did it without his knowledge.”
He blinked. “That explains it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Explains what?”
“The reason you have the house,” he said simply. “If your dad had known that you were buying it, you wouldn’t have gotten him to agree to let you get it.”
I scowled.
He was, however, correct.
When my father had realized that I’d purchased my rental property, the shit had hit the fan.
See, the place needed a bit of work. And by a bit, I meant a lot.
And, sadly, most of it I wasn’t able to do on my own.
I’d been watching YouTube videos galore on how to fix up old pier and beam houses, and needless to say, I hadn’t been nearly as adept at things as I thought I was.
“You’re, sadly, correct,” I admitted. “My dad certainly wasn’t very happy about it.”
He scrunched up his nose in amusement, then grabbed my hand. “Hurry. There’s a break in the traffic.”
We ran across the crosswalk as fast as we could, pissing off an eighteen-wheeler in the process since he had to brake.
The thing was, to get to Canton Trades Days, you had to cross over a five-lane highway that had a speed limit of fifty-five. Sure, we’d done it in a crosswalk, but there were just so freakin’ many people coming and going that sometimes the drivers got impatient. Like the eighteen-wheeler.
Louis turned his glare on the man behind the wheel, flipping him off when the guy made eye contact.
I snorted. “How old are you again?”
He eyed me with a raised brow. “Remind me who it was again that kicked that car in the Walmart parking lot because she didn’t stop to allow you to pass?”
“Pedestrians have the right of way in parking lots,” I said. “And how did you even hear about that?”
“I didn’t hear about it. I witnessed it,” he countered. “I was there. You were crossing the crosswalk. I was two cars behind the one you kicked.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you were.”
He would be there to witness my show of temper.