Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Okay, I have someone on their way to you. Are you outside?”
“I am.”
“Good, stay out there until my tech gets to you, just to be on the safe side. He should be there in about ten minutes.”
“Okay, thanks a lot.”
I hang up and sigh. Leave it to me to get a brand-new air-conditioning unit, and on the same day, my house blows up from a gas leak.
That would be my luck.
I turn at the sound of a vehicle approaching and see my brother pull up to the curb and walk over to me, his face grim.
“I’ll go in and double-check,” he says.
“Smart. I’ll be damn embarrassed if the smell was all in my head.”
Mac walks inside and, just a few seconds later, comes right back out. “It’s there for sure. I wonder what happened.”
I shrug just as another truck approaches, and I’m relieved to see that it’s the tech with the gas company.
“Hey, folks.” He reaches into the truck and comes out with a black box. “I’ll go in and measure for gas first, and we’ll go from there.”
“Thank you.”
A few seconds after going into the house, he comes back out, nodding. “Oh, yeah, there’s a leak in the kitchen. Looks like the hose behind the stove is leaking. I can cap it off, but then you’ll be without a stove.”
“It doesn’t work anyway,” I inform him. “So go ahead and cap it off.”
With a nod, he gets to work, and Mac turns to me with a scowl.
“What?”
“I didn’t know that the stove didn’t work.”
“I wasn’t ready to replace it,” I reply with a shrug. “You already do so much for me; there’s no need to rope you into more things that aren’t a priority. I rarely eat at home anyway.”
“A broken gas stove is dangerous, Polly.”
“And now it’s being taken care of.”
He sighs and digs his fingers into his eye sockets, the way he always does when I irritate the hell out of him.
“You can probably go,” I add. “Now that he’s here, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“I’ll stay.”
Okay, two weeks without Ryan is starting to grate on my nerves, and I still have a week to go until he’s home.
“I’m just feeling sorry for myself because he’s not coming with me tonight.” I shimmy into the white formal dress that I bought just for this occasion. It’s short, hitting me just above the knee, has a high neck but is sleeveless, and is complete with a pretty, silver belt that manages to make my waist look small.
I love clothes.
Slipping into strappy silver heels that match the belt, I turn to grab my clutch. It’s orange, the only pop of color in my outfit, and I love it. It’s my splurge for the month.
Of course, my splurges always have to do with fashion.
My hair is up in a French twist, and as I fasten my silver earrings, the doorbell rings.
“Must be Zach from next door,” I mutter as I fasten the second earring and then walk through the house. “I have to pay him for trimming the bushes the other day. Hey, Zach,” I begin as I open the door, and then stop short and stare in disbelief.
“Who the fuck is Zach?” Ryan’s voice is calm, but his hazel eyes are hard with the question. And oh, my God, he looks amazing.
“Ryan.” I grab his hand and yank him inside, slam the door, and move in to wrap my arms around him, but he takes one tiny step back, stopping me, the muscle in his jaw ticking with agitation.
“Who’s Zach, Polly?”
I frown up at him, and then it dawns on me. He thought I was expecting someone else.
“The neighbor kid,” I reply, and can’t help but grin when his face relaxes. “I thought he was coming to collect his twenty bucks for trimming the bushes. Instead, I found a super sexy man on my doorstep who appears to be dressed for a party.”
He’s sexier than sin in a blue sport coat over a white dress shirt open at the collar and darker blue slacks. He has a pink handkerchief in the breast pocket, and he’s just…delicious.
“Jesus, I missed you,” he says and lowers his lips to mine, kissing me like he hasn’t seen me in years and missed me every single one of those days.
“You came,” I manage, and am mortified to feel tears want to threaten, so I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him, loving the way he simply lifts me off my feet. “You didn’t have to, you know.”
“Yes, I did. I needed to come home. Do we have a second, or do we need to go right away?”
“We can take a second,” I reply, not wanting to let go of him, and definitely not ready to share him with a whole bunch of people. “You were a busy man, Ryan. I think you texted me twice after our fun phone call.”