Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“I very much would not like.”
The silence stretches between us. I’m uncomfortable while she’s blissfully content over there, still munching away on crackers and cheese. Damn it, she’s the intruder, the interloper. I shouldn’t feel this edgy. Like I’m the one who needs to get up and take a walk or leave—leave my own freaking house and yard and property, leave the one place on earth that brings me a measure of peace.
“You think I’ve lost my way.” Fiddle fucking sticks. Shut up. “That I’m hiding out here, taking the easy way out, severing all connections.” Okay then. That’s right. Just keep going. Nope, I’m done now. So done.
Nina’s eyes drop down to the grass. “It’s not my business why you’re out here. But if you had pain and it brought you here, I’m sorry for it.”
“You’re probably one of those every single day, do something that scares you kinds of people.”
She twines her fingers through the blades of grass. They’re long under the tree, as I haven’t mowed over here in a while. “Not really, but if we’re not connected, and we’re not living our lives for others, within reason, then are we really living at all?”
“I knew you were a secret philosopher.” A distant baaaaaa puts an exclamation point on that.
Nina laughs. Despite everything, I still think the sound of her laughter is pretty. “I don’t know about that, but I guess if you want to live for your sheep, your donkey, your dog, and your cats, that’s okay too. I’m still sorry for your pain.”
“What if I told you there was no pain?”
Her eyes jerk up, and she looks right at me in that unnerving way that makes my skin crawl and my heart flop over itself at the same time. “I’d have to tell you that the soul is written in the eyes, and yours are grieving. These things change us, whatever they are. The past, I mean. We wear the marks on our souls for a long time.”
“The sheep cheese will change you too if you’re not careful.” I have to make a joke, or at least attempt one. Things are getting way too heavy and personal for me, and I’m bugging the heck out, packing all my let’s get the hell out of here mental bags and running.
Her mouth falls open, but damn it, she’s intrigued and not at all disgusted like I hoped she would be. What is wrong with this woman? She’s looking for a prince charming who swoops in and saves her, rescues her on his white stead in his dazzling armor. Thank sweet fucktarts—told you I’d break out some gooders—that I don’t have a horse here. She’d probably get ideas about it.
“Well, I’m hopeful that it will. For the better. I like it out here. I can see the attraction.” She shifts and looks toward the house. “Thanks for letting me spend the night.”
“Did I really have a choice?”
“Obviously. You could have packed me off with my car, given me money for the parts and a hotel, and told me not to come back.”
“Maybe I still will.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’ll prepare the spare bedroom for me and let me spend the night, and tomorrow will look all fresh and beautiful, and we’ll have things figured out.”
“Tomorrow, hopefully, your car will be finished because I’ll pay anyone as much as it takes to get it done, and then you can be on your way, safe and sound.”
“But you’ll talk to a lawyer first? Before you take me to pick up my car?”
She’s so relentless. I don’t know why this silly contract matters so much to her. It’s absurd. About as absurd as our grannies putting our names on one, to begin with. I blow out a long sigh and decide to just give her what she wants. If it means having her out of my life and seeing the end of this, then I should just darn well give in.
“Yes, I’ll contact a lawyer. But there’s no guest bedroom. The only bed in the whole house is mine.”
“I can take the couch.”
“It would no doubt eat you in the night. It has attitude issues. You take my bed.” It does funny things to my body to think about her sleeping there in the house. In my bed. And under my roof. Never mind the nap she already had. The mere thought of it did enough damage to my male region and a funny spot in my chest that I thought was done feeling things for life. “I’ll sleep with the sheep in the barn.”
It might be old-fashioned and dramatic, but sheep are safe companions, and they give really, really good cheese. Also, sheep won’t cheat on you, humiliate you in front of your whole family, and break your heart.