Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“We, um, got our first stop coming up here on the right,” Inez says after a few moments of tense silence.
“Okay.” I glance over and force a smile to try to ease the tightness in the car. “One down. Twenty-five to go.”
Fortunately, Yasmen did a great job plotting the stops, and they’re mostly clustered together, a few on each block. Some houses are right across from each other or just along the block, so I take a few on one side of the street, and Inez takes the other.
“Last few,” Inez says after about an hour and a half of deliveries across the north part of town that have taken us to the edge of Skyland’s borders.
“You take these.” I hand her the last two from the trunk. “I’ll deliver mine and we’ll be done.”
We high-five, sharing an easy smile. After the initial tension, we found our footing, getting into the rhythm of making deliveries. Seeing people’s pleasure at receiving the prettily ribboned baskets with the delicious-smelling baked bread improved our moods. After each drop, our grins stretched a little wider. We blasted some Lizzo, and it was about damn time before we knew it.
I walk up the steps of the last house, a four-sided white-brick traditional with navy-blue plantation shutters. Based on the look of it, I’d estimate it was originally built in the 1920s, maybe ’30s, with the wraparound porch and arched dark wood front door. I ring the bell, but after a few seconds no one answers. I ring the doorbell again, prepared to leave this one on the porch. I smile when the door swings open but am disoriented to see Judah’s son standing there.
“Aaron, oh, my gosh! Hi!”
“I’m Adam,” he says, the look he gives me only vaguely curious. “Aaron’s my brother.”
Twin brother, Judah said. From what I remember of Aaron, the boys are startlingly similar. Same medium-brown skin and dark, slashing brows. Judah’s bone structure is sharper, but I suspect that as the boys mature, they’ll only become more like him.
“Oh, right. I met your brother last year at…” I bite my lip, not sure what to say. “Well, at your father’s job.”
“You know my dad?” He tilts his head, skepticism in the question, like there couldn’t possibly be someone his father knows and he doesn’t.
“Adam, who is it?”
That deep, rich-toned voice precedes him, but I only have a few seconds to prepare before Judah appears at the door, a slight frown crinkling the thick line of his brows.
“It’s me.” I half smile and wave awkwardly with the hand not holding the basket. “Special delivery.”
“Oh, uh… hey.” Judah reaches out to take the basket and stares back at me. The porch is like quicksand beneath my feet, and it feels like I’m sinking, losing myself in that steady, dark-eyed gaze that is at once patient and probing. I’d forgotten the hot rush of sensation being around Judah brings, but it crashes over me, scrambling my senses and shortening my breath.
“Soledad.”
My name is spoken, not by Judah, but by Aaron, who has come up on the other side of his father.
“Aaron,” I say, a genuine smile coming to my lips. “Hi!”
I’m surprised and delighted that he remembered my name. He doesn’t say anything else but watches me with the same unwavering regard with which his father usually does.
“Guys, why don’t you take this inside?” Judah suggests.
Adam walks into the house carrying the basket.
“Nice meeting you, Adam,” I call after him, needing to leave the porch and get back to the car but finding it hard to move.
“Aaron,” Judah says, his voice firm but gentle, “inside, please.”
“Bye, Aaron.” I wave, grinning even though he hasn’t cracked a smile.
“Bye,” Aaron answers, turning to walk inside, leaving Judah and me on the porch alone.
There has been no contact between us for the last nine months. After I signed the agreement and turned over the drive, CalPot left me alone. It had the information needed to recover most of its money and to prosecute Edward.
“It’s good to see you.” Judah shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks.
“You too,” I say.
“You look good.”
His gaze wanders over me, leaving heat and chills in its wake. I shiver a little and wonder if I look as different to him as I feel on the inside. I’m still the same Soledad to the naked eye. He probably can’t detect how changed I am from the desperate woman who stood in his office all those months ago taking a chance that he would help.
“So do you,” I say after a few seconds. “Look good, I mean.”
Understatement. He looks even better than the last time I saw him, and that’s saying something. The top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone, and his sleeves are rolled above the elbows, exposing sinewy forearms and deep brown, taut skin. A man’s forearms shouldn’t have this effect on me. I glance down at my feet before he reads something I don’t want him to see. With such a discerning stare, I wonder if he’d see how often I’ve thought of him. How I’ve touched myself sometimes at night, the memory of his voice and his gentle hand on my face enough to undo me with a few strokes of my fingers.