Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
But the quiet I’d achieved was about to quickly change.
Again.
I stepped off the front porch and rounded the cabin, heading to where I could hear Rett ordering Timber to stay in the truck and the dog back-talking by whining and woofing softly.
“I know you do, but I’m not sure it’s reciprocated.” Rett’s response to Timber’s complaining drifted over to me as the man, his dog and his truck came into view when I rounded the back corner.
My step stuttered at seeing Rett standing by the passenger door, patting Timber’s head sticking out of the window. Once again, the dog’s tongue hung out of the side of his mouth in his typical goofy way.
“You speak dog?” I called out, asking the equally goofy owner.
Rett quickly turned in my direction and Timber let out an excited high-pitched scream when he saw me, making his owner wince.
It hurt my ears from where I stood, I couldn’t imagine having it done directly next to me.
“I speak Timber.”
“Timber’s not a dog? You could’ve fooled me.”
“Timber wants to act like he’s not a dog, as you can clearly see.”
I mmm’d and took two more steps, stopped before I got too close and planted my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you mind if I let him out?”
I shrugged one shoulder. As soon as Rett opened the passenger door, the German Shepherd leapt from the cab, rushed over to the tree line and lifted his leg. Once he was done, he rushed over to me and poked my thigh with his nose.
While I might not speak dog, as he stared up at me I could read his poor-me, puppy dog eyes.
I dropped a hand from my hip to scratch behind his ears, causing him to sit on my foot and those eyes to half-close in pleasure as his tail slowly swept back and forth across the ground.
“For some reason my dog likes you. He’s usually a better judge of character.”
In my past life, I would’ve chuckled over that comment, but the truth was I rarely laughed anymore. “I guess his judgment is about as good as yours since you keep showing up at my place. Even when you’re not wanted.”
Rett’s lips curled up slightly at the corners and he turned to reach into his truck, pulling out a thick manilla envelope and a pack of…
Pens?
After slamming the truck door shut, he strode toward me, his solid, long legs eating up the ground between us.
Yes, it was pens. A dozen red pens.
Why the hell would I need…
I groaned.
The manilla envelope must hold his manuscript. Because I forgot to email him, he printed the damn thing out.
I bit back a sigh.
With only Timber’s black and tan body separating us, Rett stopped and lifted one dark eyebrow. “I would’ve emailed this to you if you had actually emailed me like you said you would.”
My eyes flicked to the envelope he held up between us.
The man was certainly determined. However, I couldn’t fault him for that. Gumption was always needed in life to get ahead. He certainly had it in spades.
“Therefore,” he continued, “I figured you preferred to go old school and I printed the first draft for you, instead.”
“I don’t waste paper like that.”
Thomas had always been big on saving the environment. He was horrified the time I printed out a three-hundred and fifty page novel—one-sided to boot—only to mark it up, make the necessary changes in my writing software and then toss it into a metal trash can to burn it.
I never did it again.
Very few things made Thomas happy.
His cat Sammie.
Me being environmentally aware.
Him reading my books.
Us snuggling together in bed to Netflix and chill.
The list was short.
It wasn’t like he didn’t want to be happy, but his hard wiring had been severely damaged when he was young. All from his goddamn awful parents. May they rot in hell, even though they both still lived and breathed. Unlike their first-born son.
I wasn’t surprised when they didn’t show up for our wedding since our love for each other, along with our marriage, were what they considered an abomination.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, and was actually relieved, when they didn’t show up for his memorial service, either. Of course, I didn’t invite them but one of Thomas’s childhood friends told them about it.
I’d been on edge that day, expecting them to show up and create a scene. To spout nonsense about us being sinners and that Thomas had deserved what happened to him for how he lived his life.
It was for the best that they didn’t show up, otherwise I probably would’ve punched his father, strangled his mother and ended up in jail.
Truthfully, it would’ve been worth every minute I spent behind bars.
“I normally don’t, either.”
Huh?
Oh damn, my mind had wandered. We were discussing printing out manuscripts, right?