Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Fruit?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re currently pregnant with an olive.”
“A baby olive.”
“Olives are vile.”
“I know, right?” I chuckle, and so does he.
“So, what size will the fruit baby be next week?”
“A fig.”
“Also gross.”
“True.” I laugh again.
“So, when will the baby actually be the size of a decent fruit?”
“Hmm … well, it’ll be apple-sized at fifteen weeks.”
“Apples are okay as fruit goes. They taste better juiced though.”
“Again, true.”
“Are we actually having a fucking conversation about fruit right now?”
“Yep.” I giggle.
“You’re so odd.”
“Hey! You were talking fruit, too.”
“Humoring you, Red. I was humoring you.”
“Sure you were.” I roll my eyes.
All this talk of fruit has gotten me hungry—and also the smell of a vendor selling corn dogs. Not that it takes much nowadays to get me eating.
I start drifting in a bit, toward people and the corn-dog-selling vendor. “You hungry?” I ask him. “Because I could really go for a corn dog right now. My treat, for dragging you here?”
He gives me a look. “You’re not buying me a corn dog, Red. I’ll get them.”
“You sure?”
Another look. “I’m sure. Wait here, and I’ll be back in a minute.”
I watch him walk over to the vendor, shoulders in, head down, avoiding eye contact with people.
Moving back a bit, I rest my butt against a large rock, half-sitting on it.
I’ve not even been sitting there a minute when a guy wanders over. He has short sandy-blond hair and a stocky frame; he’s about six-foot I’d say, and he’s handsome in a pretty-boy way.
He stops before me, a smile on his face, showing gleaming white teeth. “Hey. You work at the diner, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Brad.” He offers his hand to me.
I put my hand in his and shake it. The skin on his hand is soft. Like his hands have never seen a hard day’s work before.
“Carrie.” I pull my hand back.
“So, you’re new to town?”
“Yes.”
“We get a lot of tourists here but not many new residents. What brought you to Canyon Lake?” He moves to lean on the rock beside me.
Discomfort slithers through me. I shift up a bit. Something about this guy doesn’t sit right with me. And I listen to my gut nowadays. It’s always right.
“I fancied a change of scenery.” I shrug.
He laughs. “You don’t give much away, do you?”
I glance at him. His eyes are green. A nice color, but they’re not kind eyes.
I shrug again.
He laughs again.
“Did you enjoy the parade?” he asks me.
“I did. I’ve never seen a Christmas boat parade before. It was fun to watch.”
“So, are you here alone?” he asks, and I don’t like the question.
“I came with friends,” I firmly tell him.
There’s a lull in the conversation, and I really wish he would just go. But he doesn’t.
“So …” He scratches his chin. “I’ve seen you around town a few times and wanted to talk to you. I think you’re a total knockout, Carrie, and I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime.”
Uh.
His direct approach kind of throws me for a moment. I’m about to turn down his offer, but I don’t get a chance.
“No, she doesn’t fucking want to go out with you.”
My head turns at the sound of River, a face like thunder, sans corn dogs. Fire and ire burn in his eyes, and I’m getting the distinct impression River does not like Brad.
Brad stands and faces River. He lets out a laugh, and it’s not a nice sound. “Well, this is the surprise of the century. What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you didn’t leave that mausoleum you call a home.”
And it looks like that feeling of dislike goes both ways.
“Come on; let’s get you back to your friends,” River says to me, ignoring Brad.
“Carrie doesn’t want to go anywhere. Do you, Carrie? We were having a nice conversation before you showed up.”
I open my mouth to speak, but River beats me to it.
“No, you were hitting on her, like you do with anything that has a pulse. Come on, Red.”
“Red? Well, hold up now. This just got really interesting. Are you actually friends with the one-pump chump?” Brad says, lips twitching.
“You still filming people having sex without their knowledge?” River fires back at him.
What?
Brad laughs. “You never could take a joke.”
“The only joke here is you.”
“Well, now, that’s just not nice. And I think it’s only fair that the lovely Carrie here knows who she’s spending her time with.”
“Shut the fuck up, Brad,” River snaps.
And that just makes Brad smile wider. An evil gleam in his eyes.
If I’m not mistaken, I’m guessing I already know what Brad is going to say.
I move and stand beside River.
“I already know who I’m spending my time with,” I tell Brad.
“I’m not sure you do, sugar. You know, aside from being able to get it up long enough to satisfy a woman, he comes from bad blood. Do you know his mama murdered a cop in cold blood? Shot a good man to death in her kitchen while he stood there and watched her do it.”