Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
I nod, but also feel the change in his mood. His jaw is now tight, the muscle on his cheek is ticking. A frown appears on his handsome face. Sadness paints his features. As if a cloud descends over him.
“Are you okay?”
He clears his throat as if to answer, but Janie chooses that moment to bustle down the steps to greet us. “Who’s this sweet little thing? You find little red riding hood out there in the forest? I damn near filed a missing person report for you, Mr. Ray! Security system said the front door was last opened at 4am—that’s eight hours you’ve been gone! Gotta be some kind of record you being gone that long and not for work! And your phone has gone crazy. Kept beeping and vibrating. I thought you’d been kidnapped.”
What the what?
I lift my eyes to Davis, cocking my head slightly. So much to process. Eight hours away from the house is a record? Kidnapped?
I blink quickly at him, furrowing my brow.
Lord, what have I gotten myself into now?
Janie ushers me inside, telling me she doesn’t know where I sprang from but it’s nice to have another woman around here for once. The house is clean as a whistle. Nothing looks out of the place, and miracle of miracles, there’s no crosses anywhere. No Jesus looks down at me, judging me.
There’s lots of brown and green and soft cream colors. It’s masculine but comfortable with some pictures on the wall that look like modern art all done by the same hand. Wide windows look out the back over a field with an enormous, weathered wood barn and mountain peaks in the distance.
From somewhere in the house, I hear the unexpected sound of cartoons playing somewhere on a TV. But there are no signs of kids, toys, or any of the mess of children; so whoever he wants me to meet doesn’t seem to be a kid.
Just as I’m about to ask, Davis takes me by the hand and leads me into the living room. And there, parked in front of the big flat-front TV, is a young man in a wheelchair. Dark hair like Davis’, with a cowlick, slightly bony. Running down the back of his close-cropped hair is a terrible scar, long-since healed but a tight river of angry white in the dark brush of hair.
There’s a large easel and jars of paint on a tray with a canvas propped up in process and I know who the artist in residence is.
“Hey, bud,” Davis says. “Sorry, I had to go for a bit. You alright?”
I come around and finally get a better look at him. He isn’t really a boy, a bit older. Maybe in his late teens. His eyes carry the spark of recognition and intelligence, but it’s obvious he’s experienced some kind of accident. A terrible one, it seems, judging by the result.
When our eyes meet, his face lights up. “Whoa, big brother, what the heck? You go missing for eight hours and come back with a girl. I thought you were going out for donuts. What is this, Goldilocks and the Three Bears? Or red riding hood?”
Davis chuckles at his excitement and this red riding hood thing is becoming a pattern. It’s cute, I don’t mind having a nickname that doesn’t make me sound like the devil’s hand maiden. “Stevie, meet Marin. Marin, this is Stevie Ray. Marin’s shitty friends dropped her off at the cabin and then took off, leaving her all alone. I went walking, she was trespassing.”
Stevie narrows his eyes as he meets mine, and I can see he doesn’t believe it. “Is that so? You must have been cursing your luck when you ran into this cantankerous bastard. Probably better if you met a grizzly.”
I snort a laugh, covering my mouth and instinctively extend my right hand for a shake. Only to notice his right hand is stuck in a fist. Embarrassment warms my cheeks as my laugh falters, but Stevie grins.
“Awkward!”
His laughter vanishes all my discomfort and I laugh along with him.
Weakly, he offers his left hand and I shake that one instead. He smirks and playfully glances at Davis. “I thought you went out for donuts, big brother. But she’s better than donuts.”
Davis looks away, embarrassed, shaking his head. “And you wonder why I never bring anybody here.”
Stevie Ray scoffs and turns down the television volume. “You never bring anybody here because you’re a cantankerous old bastard.”
Davis grumbles, the kind I’d expect from someone who has heard this many times before. He shakes his head, laughing, and then signals me to come over and talk to him.
As soon as I am close enough to feel his warmth and strength, my body responds. Like a chocolate kiss in the sun. He studies my face like he’s memorizing me. “So…” he trails off.