Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I look at her in surprise. I’m that obvious? “How did you know that was why I was annoyed?”
She laughs knowingly. “Because the second he left the other night, you called to tell me what an amazing time you had.”
Of course, I’m that obvious. Like a starry-eyed teen, I gushed about Drew. So much for the tough girl routine I try to foster at work. Outside of the office, one fantastic night turned me into a marshmallow.
My throat tightens with a stupid lump. “I feel so foolish. I was so sure we’d have a second date. And I wanted that,” I say, a sob threatening my composure. “After the work thing and everything…”
But I press the brakes. I don’t want to indulge in a pity party over a man I had a one-night stand with.
I’m here this morning for Cara—to drive her to class on my way to work since her car is in the shop. She’s finishing her master’s degree to become a special education teacher, and I couldn’t be prouder of my little sister.
I swallow the threat of tears and raise my chin. “Forget it. It’s no biggie. Tell me more about what classes you have today,” I say as we walk to the door.
She tugs gently on my hair, something she always did when she was little. “I will, but I can’t thank you enough for driving me. My car is asking for a knuckle sandwich these days.” She holds up her fist to demonstrate what she wants to do to her little Honda.
“You’re not that far from me, and your class is on my way in.” I like helping her, and the reality is, I’m her third parent.
We head down the steps of her building and slide into my car, then pull into sluggish morning traffic. But we don’t have far to go—just a couple miles.
As I slow at a light, I hear Cara hum to herself, something brewing in her big brain. That’s my sister—always thinking. Revisiting. Trying again.
With a laugh, I say, “Spit it out.”
She screws up the corner of her lips, then looks at me, her blue eyes intense. “You could call him.”
I answer with a scoff.
“You could, Brooke,” she insists.
“I’m not going to chase a guy who doesn’t want to be chased,” I say as the light changes and I hit the gas.
I still can’t believe I misread Drew Adams so badly. But he played me, and that’s just part of modern dating.
Ever the optimist, Cara goes on, “Maybe something legit happened. You really liked him, and you guys had a good connection. You’re a confident, single woman, and you don’t need to wait for a man to call you or respond to a text. There could be a simple explanation for him not answering your text.” She snaps her fingers. “Like he dropped his phone in the shower.”
I crack up. “Why on earth would he be using his phone in the shower?”
“Watching the news obviously,” she says. “He’s so worldly and concerned about the state of global affairs that he watches the news in the shower.”
“And then he slipped and broke his phone?”
“It was a very intense news story.” Her eyes widen as she embellishes the tale. “Or maybe the phone shielded his fall!”
“Or maybe you’re reading too many news stories yourself, Miss NewsHound. You love little facts about all the terrible things that happen.”
“No, I love to be prepared. And that’s why I always have bathmats on the tiles, since lots of accidental injuries occur in the bathroom. Things get slippery in the shower. All I’m saying is it’s possible there’s an explanation for him not texting.”
“Explanations like that only happen in the movies. Real life is men saying they’ll do one thing, then doing another,” I say crisply, gripping the wheel tighter, focusing on the road. Men need to stay in the rearview mirror. I have to learn my lesson from Sailor. “Look. It’s all for the best. It’s going to be a busy season. The more I focus on doing my best at the office, the greater the chance I can have at landing the next job.”
“Have you decided what to do yet? About the work thing?”
I’ve cooled off since last week. I’m determined to impress Stephen and win the next promotion. “It’s a small world, and I think I’ll just keep trying hard with the Bandits,” I say, but then I flash her a devilish smile. “But obviously I’ll keep my ear to the ground for better opportunities.”
“Obviously. You’re always strategic. And I love that plan,” she says.
I reach her building on campus. “Love you. Get out of here.”
She leans across the console to give me a sloppy kiss on the cheek and then grabs her bag and heads out.
I watch her go, feeling warm and fuzzy as she heads into the building. Proud too. We spent many nights hunting down scholarships in her field. She nailed a handful and only has to pay a few thousand dollars a year. Loans are no fun. I’m still saddled with my law school loans, though I’ve been steadily chipping away at them. Another couple of years and I can pay them off.