Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I’d resolved to let it all go. To move on to a new life where I might be able to start over. Nothing glamorous, but maybe something honest.
I’d also resolved that it would take time. I didn’t deserve quick grace, and I figured I’d need to work for something good to happen to me.
And then Tilden Marshall came along, and she cannot be considered good for me. She’s a pain in my ass, she’s impinging on my plans to be left alone, and she’s not even my fucking type.
So why in the hell am I staring at the trees, hoping she’ll walk through them?
Why did I go to Masha’s last night, hoping she’d be out for a drink with her friends?
More importantly, if I want to see her again, why don’t I have the balls to walk over there?
Because I don’t want to see her again. I want to fuck her, and that is all.
Movement catches my eye, and Chip is back on the rail. He stares at me and makes noises. Chip, chip, chip. I swear there’s an almost expectant tone.
I turn my hand over, peanut resting in my palm. “You looking for this?”
Chip, chip, chip. It sounds like he’s chittering his name at me. The rodent stares at me, tail twitching.
I consider putting the peanut on the deck or even on top of my shoe again, but instead, I lean over the side of the chair so my hand hovers above the wooden planks and extend it his way.
Chip freezes and eyeballs the peanut intently.
“You know you want it,” I say softly, and his ears swivel forward as if attracted to the sound of my voice. “Come and get it, little man.”
Ordinarily, I’d feel stupid talking to an animal and wasting my time to see if I can tempt him to take the peanut, but this is my life now. Hockey star to animal whisperer.
My back aches from the odd angle I’m leaning in and then my arm starts to go numb. Chip doesn’t move a muscle, and now it’s a battle of who wants to win.
Either he’ll come get the nut, or I’ll give up and toss it his way.
I’m just about to say “fuck it” when he turns and runs down the length of the rail away from me. But when he gets to the steps, he jumps down to the wooden deck and hesitantly inches toward me. His tail twitches suspiciously, and I hold so still, I’m barely breathing.
When he nears my shoe, he stops, and we engage in another staring contest. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as my back is really hurting now, but I’m in this till the end. I want to see just how brave this little guy really is because I’m a giant who could easily crush him.
And then to my surprise, Chip darts forward so fast, I almost jerk away from him. He hops right into my hand, grabs the nut, and stuffs it into his cheek before hopping right back off again. He runs across the deck, down the steps, and hangs a hard left, back to his bush.
My heart pounds from the encounter, and I’ll bet his is too.
Jesus. A wild chipmunk just ate from my hand. Or rather, stole food from my hand, but all the same… I’m impressed by the little fella.
I grab another peanut from the bag and set it on my shoe again to see if he’ll come back. I finish my morning coffee while staring out at the trees Tilden wants to cut down.
Talk about some symbolism. Essentially, she wants to knock down a wall I’ve got between myself and the world. I’m hiding, and she wants to open things up.
It’s no wonder she chafes me so bad, but I still can’t figure out why I want more of her.
Just a great fuck, I remind myself. Getting back in the saddle, so to speak.
I wait another fifteen minutes to see if Chip will return, but he doesn’t.
With a sigh, I rise out of my chair and head inside, tossing the peanut over the banister for him. I’m going for a run on the trails and then will head into town.
Maybe stop at Masha’s for lunch.
Not to see if Tilden is there but because they make a great Reuben.
I’ve never been a liar. I may have received a drunk blow job from my teammate’s girlfriend, but I’d never lie about it.
But something tells me when it comes to Tilden Marshall, I’m telling all sorts of lies to myself.
My phone rings just as I’m choosing a playlist for my run. It’s Gage, and weirdly, I don’t hesitate to answer.
Weird because my first inclination these last few months has been to ignore anyone and everything that has to do with the Titans.
“What’s up?” I say as I connect the call.