Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
The smile kissing my lips is unstoppable. It’s been a permanent fixture ever since I left the Becks’ house a few days ago.
My weight sinks back into the chair, and I swivel back and forth. Staring off into the distance, I let my mind wander.
I’ve been grateful that rain has canceled baseball practice and that I’ve been too busy at work to see Cole. The texts we’ve exchanged have been fun. Flirty. But they’ve given me a second to gather my thoughts about Sunday afternoon.
The fact that I had sex with him.
In the morning, I wake up thinking that I’m going to regret it. I lie in bed and close my eyes and wait for the gloom that I expect to cloud my head.
But it doesn’t come.
I don’t feel bad for having sex with Cole. There’s not even a hint of dismay anywhere inside me for taking Ethan to the Becks’ for dinner. If anything, I’m glad I did it—both things.
Ethan has been extra lighthearted lately. I heard him talking about going to the cave with one of his friends during an online gaming chat. The happiness in his voice made my heart sing. How can that be a bad thing?
And Cole . . . I wiggle in my seat.
I look forward to his texts. Sneaking outside to talk to him last night reminded me of a time in my life when I felt free. Happy. Like a whole person instead of one split into a bunch of roles that serve other people.
I love my life. Ethan is my world, and I adore my job and Val and the community events I participate in. But this thing with Cole is something just for me—even if it’s only for a little while.
And that’s okay. It has to be.
“Hey, Palmer?” Kirk asks, coming into the doorway.
“What’s up?”
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
Oh great. “Sure, Kirk. What’s going on?”
A shadow ripples across his face. “There’s a bus auction Friday in Parkersburg. There’s no online apparatus for us to bid from here, and I was going to go, but the wife has a doctor’s appointment in Columbus. I—”
“Do you need me to go?”
He nods. “I hate to even ask you, but Charlotte gets her biopsy results back from her breast scan. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I really don’t want to send her alone.”
“You can’t send her alone.” I smile reassuringly at him. “Go with her. I’ll go.”
Relief settles on his features. “It won’t cause you any problems?”
“No. I’ll have Val grab Ethan from school, or he can ride the bus. It won’t kill him. And I should be back in plenty of time to take him to practice.”
And see Cole. I smile, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach.
“Thank you,” Kirk says. “I appreciate you.”
“Hey, no problem.” I glance at my computer. “I’m going to finish this and then step out for lunch. Cool?”
“Absolutely.”
He goes back into his office, and I make quick work of entering the last bit of data into the spreadsheet. The formulas work wonderfully, and I hit “Save,” beaming at my handiwork.
I’m starting to get up and grab my keys when Kirk’s voice fills the air once again.
“Palmer?”
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Burt said he can go on Friday if you don’t want to.”
His words hang in the air as I scramble to make a decision.
“Um, okay,” I say, picking up my phone. “That would be easier for me, if you don’t mind.”
“Maybe it’ll do him some good to get out of here. If he messes up down there, he’ll have no one to blame but himself.”
I walk across the room and stick my head inside Kirk’s office.
“What a shame that would be,” I tease.
He laughs. “Go take your lunch break and get out of here.”
I laugh, too, and exit the office.
The sky is still dreary, but the temperature is warmer than it has been. The air tastes sweet and smells faintly of fresh spring flowers.
I head to my car with a renewed sense of optimism. Everything just feels . . . possible. Life seems doable.
It’s just because it’s springtime. That’s it.
I climb inside my car and look at my phone. I have two missed calls from Val. It’s unlike me to go more than a day without talking to her. She’s probably starting to worry.
The phone rings three times before she answers. “I was getting ready to come looking for you.”
I laugh. “I’m fine. Sorry for not calling you back. Work has been crazy today.”
“And yesterday?”
“Yesterday too.”
“Really, Palmer?”
I laugh again. “It’s been a busy start to the week, okay?”
“That’s great, but I get the distinct feeling that you’re avoiding me. The question is why?”
It’s immature and juvenile to feel the way I’ve felt since Sunday—like not telling anyone about Cole and me makes it special. Because it’s not special. It’s just a hookup, and I know that.