Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
He grunted a word I couldn’t make out.
“What’s that?” I cupped my ear. “I didn’t catch what you barked.”
He scowled. “Are you expecting a delivery?”
“I am. Why?”
“Because they dumped your shit in my driveway.”
“What?” My mouth dropped open. “They couldn’t have.” I squeezed around the oak-tree-sized man who seemed to like to stand in doorways and peered over at his driveway. Sure enough, my delivery was there. And the truck was nowhere to be found.
“I don’t know why they did that. I’ve been waiting all afternoon for that stuff to come.”
Mr. Bunyan held up a yellow carbon-copy invoice. “I have an idea.”
“What are you talking about?” I snatched the paper and scanned for the address. “Forty-four Rosewood Lane. They have the right address.”
“They do, huh?”
“Yes.”
He lifted his chin, gesturing behind me to the other side of the kitchen. I was confused at what he could possibly be showing me in my house to prove his point. Though my eyes widened when I caught on.
His dented mailbox.
His dented mailbox with the number painted on the side: Forty-four.
Oh shit.
“I…” My shoulders slumped. “I screwed up.”
“You think?”
“I’ve walked by that mailbox so many times in the last two days, I guess the number unconsciously stuck in my brain.” I shook my head. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
“Just don’t worry about it. It will be gone in an hour. Okay?”
His answer was a headshake. Mr. Happy turned and started to walk down my driveway. But then I thought of something.
“Hey, Paul?”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Is that supposed to be me?”
I closed my eyes. Shit. “Sorry. I, umm…is that not your name?”
“No, it is not.”
“What is your name?”
“Fox.”
“Fox? Is your full name Foxton or Foxwell or something?”
“Just Fox.”
“Okay, well, Just Fox… Did you happen to tip the driver? Because it wasn’t his fault that I gave the wrong house, and I don’t want to stiff him.”
Paul—or rather Fox—still had his back to me. Only now did he turn around and shake his head. “If I had seen them unloading onto my driveway, wouldn’t I have told them they had the wrong house?”
“Oh.” My face fell. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“Shocker…”
My eyes bulged. “You don’t have to be so rude! I made an honest mistake.”
Fox kept walking. So I did the mature thing and stuck my tongue out at his back.
“I saw that,” he said, already halfway back to his property.
Seriously? What the hell? Did the jerk have eyes in the back of his head? I bet those were jade green and lined with dark black lashes too, like the ones above his perpetual scowl. Nevertheless, I grabbed my sneakers and pulled them on before heading next door to drag my delivery over where it belonged.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d ordered until I was looking at it up close. There was a lot of crap stacked on top of a big wooden pallet.
“Great,” I muttered as I bent to lift the first piece of sheetrock. Unfortunately, not only had I misjudged the quantity of what I ordered, I’d misjudged the weight, too. A single piece of sheetrock had to be close to fifty pounds, not to mention that it was a heck of a lot taller than me. My feeble attempt to carry it was a joke, so I quickly resorted to holding one end and dragging it across the lawn. I’d made it about ten feet when my load suddenly went light. Mr. Friendly hoisted the sheetrock into the air, up over his head, and proceeded to take it next door like he was carrying five pounds. I had to jog to catch up to his giant strides.
“I can do it,” I said.
“Where do you want it?”
“Umm… I guess in the driveway. The garage is packed with stuff the tenant left behind.”
“They’re calling for rain.”
“I got a tarp.”
“You need a pallet or the water will hit from the bottom.”
“Oh. There’s one at the bottom of the stuff they delivered.”
“And that will help me now…how?”
Good point. I frowned and looked around, as if a wooden pallet was going to magically appear on my lawn.
“My truck should be unlocked,” Fox grumbled. “Remote to open my garage is on the visor. There are a few wooden pallets leaning against the wall on the left side.”
“Okay.” I jogged next door while my surly neighbor waited with the sheetrock. Not surprisingly, his garage was immaculate, and the pallets were exactly where he’d said. I rushed back and set the wood down in the middle of the driveway.
Fox placed the sheetrock on top and headed back to the pile in his driveway.
“At least let me help you.” I chased after him. “It’ll be easier if we carry the sheetrock together.”
He shook his head without looking my way. “No, it won’t.”
This time when he bent to pick up a piece of the sheetrock, he grabbed two sheets. I refused to let him do all the work, so I lifted the next one and began to drag it across the grass. By the time I made it to my driveway, Fox had made two trips carrying two pieces of sheetrock at once. The giant man didn’t even break a damn sweat.