Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
This. Woman. Wow. Maybe she’s exactly what I need. Someone to tell it to me straight, someone who can stand up to me, someone who isn’t afraid of me and the massive black cloud of grief that follows me around everywhere, and someone who can fill even an inch of the incredibly large shoes Britt left behind.
“Deal,” I mutter and stand up fast.
No, Feeney isn’t just pretty. I can see how, after a while—my crushed-up emotions and dead insides not-withstanding—I might find her extremely beautiful too.
CHAPTER 4
Feeney
I get shown to a basic room with a double bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and not much else. There’s a big window, at least, but of course, the blinds are shut tight. It is indeed right next door to Shade’s room, which thankfully shows some signs of life. The bed is one of those loft beds, and it has a blue canopy overtop. Underneath, there are toys spilling out everywhere—cars and car mats, a train set, building blocks, action figures…well, so much for picking up.
In a few curt words, Luke informs me he’s going to pick Shade up from wherever he is, and then he’s gone. The house is silent, and I’m still standing just inside the doorway of the room that’s going to be mine, my heavy bag cutting into my shoulder.
Zweeeerrrrrppppp. Ugh. That’s the sound of my ovaries exploding when I think about Luke at all. I purposely resist, cutting off thoughts about how tall he is, how broad, and how maddeningly attractive he is. I mean, the guy looks like he’s hewn out of granite and cheese. Granite, because duh, and cheese because…because everyone likes cheese. Cheese is tasty and delicious, just like Luke. Except cheese doesn’t scowl, cheese doesn’t glare at you, cheese doesn’t glower, and cheese doesn’t look like a hot grinch. So, maybe cheese is totally not like Luke.
But the thing I hate more than I hate this whole crazy mess? My own body betraying me.
I drop my duffel on the floor and resist groaning. Making sounds of self-pity isn’t going to help me. Self-pity isn’t going to help me, but I do get out my phone and dial Sam. She answers so fast that it barely even rings. I can tell she’s just been sitting there, waiting for me to call.
“So?”
“I got the job.”
“Yes!” She squeals. “Congrats!”
“I think he did it as a favor to you.” It occurs to me that I should ask how Sam even knows Luke. I guess he’s probably a family friend or maybe one of hers even though he’s older, or more likely, a friend of her older brother or sister, but I don’t get a chance because she’s already talking about other things.
“How is he?”
“Luke?”
“No, the mailman or the guy who delivers packages. Yes, Luke!”
“I’m pretty sure the mailman and the guy who delivers packages are one and the same.”
“They aren’t. Don’t you ever do any ordering for yourself? Never mind. Yes, Luke. What do you think?”
I close my eyes and lower myself down onto the edge of the bed. There’s a nondescript white comforter on it that is as flat and hard as the mattress. I feel like someone just butt kicked me from below. The thing is like it’s made from stone, which reminds me of Luke. It’s not hard to bring him to mind. Luke is unlike any person I’ve ever met before, and not just because he’s so direct that it could be considered openly rude.
He doesn’t look like anyone else either. I have limited experience with guys since I went to an all-girls boarding school, but I did go to college. All my boyfriends stemmed from there though none of them were like Luke. I never saw a single guy there who looked like him. I think Luke is incomparable, at least with humans. He’s a cross between a really sturdy, tall building and a panther. I think. His jet-black hair and dark eyes remind me of the cat, but it’s more his streamlined features. Sharp and chiseled, but elegant. They’re masculine too, so maybe not overly catlike because cats are beautiful. Luke could be called beautiful. His skin is flawless and bronzed from the sun, but he has an olive undertone that almost never sees a sunburn. I bet all of him is flawless—all six feet two or three inches of him. He’s streamlined like an athlete. He’s also not built like a square brick building but more like a Victorian mansion giving homage to a very dark beauty.
What the heck am I even saying?
“Ugh, are you still there?”
“Yeah.” I move to slip the phone to my other ear, but my hands are suddenly so clammy that I nearly drop it. I fumble with it before I get it back to where I can hear Sam.