Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
She did. He’s going to screw her against the door before they make it to the bed.
I don’t plan on standing this close to the bedroom, listening to their loud sex, but I take a few seconds to envy that kind of passion. No one thought Fitz would ever marry or attempt a committed relationship. The firefighter profession, in general, doesn’t have a great track record with long-lasting relationships.
“Oh god, Fitz . . .” Jamie moans.
Suppressing a grin, I jog down the stairs to grab a coffee.
When I’m half-caffeinated and under a blanket on the sofa, I text Ozzy since he hasn’t texted me. Not that he needed to, but it’s nice to get a follow-up after a date if it was a good one.
I know scavenging for chickens wasn’t the dream date, but I hope he gave me points for originality.
Maren: G-morning
I start to vomit a long message about how much fun I had last night despite Reagan and his chickens, but I delete everything except the basic good morning.
Ozzy: Who’s this?
Maren: Lol it’s Maren. You should flesh out my contact information
Ozzy: Maren who?
I laugh. It’s funny—I think.
Maren: The chicken lady. Am I that forgettable?
Ozzy: You have chickens?
Maren: Cute. What are you doing?
Ozzy: Yard work
Maren: Sounds like fun
Ozzy: It’s not
Ozzy: My daughter is helping me. She’s the best daughter in the world. When we are done I’m buying her pizza and dessert breadsticks
Maren: You’re a nice dad
Ozzy: I’m an okay dad. I should let my daughter ride her bike to school by herself
Maren: How far is the school?
Ozzy: 2 miles
Maren: I’m sure that’s a hard decision
Ozzy: It’s not. I don’t know why I haven’t let her do it
Maren: I don’t want to keep you from yard work. Thank you for the pizza. I hope you’re getting a different kind tonight
Ozzy: When did I have pizza?
I stare at the message. He needs to use emojis. Is this his idea of texting humor?
Maren: Last night. Did you fall off your bike on the way home and hit your head?
Ozzy: I don’t think so
Ozzy: Did I meet you at the bar?
I set my phone on the coffee table like it’s too hot to hold. What’s going on?
Ozzy
“Dad?”
“Huh?” I cut another wad of dried ornamental grass and shove it in the lawn bag. “Lola, you’re supposed to be helping me. What are you doing?”
“Who’s Maren?” she asks.
I freeze for a second before slowly glancing over my shoulder and squinting at her sitting on the bottom deck step, staring at my phone screen. “Why are you messing with my phone?”
“I wasn’t, but then it vibrated with a message from someone named Maren. And she called herself the chicken lady when I asked who she was.”
“Lola, you’re not supposed to mess with my phone,” I say before grumbling a few expletives beneath my breath as I trek toward her, peeling off my leather gloves.
“I’m helping you by being your secretary.” She gives me a toothy grin and bats her eyelashes while I pluck my phone from her hands.
Based on Maren’s responses, she thought she was talking to me, and why wouldn’t she? Except Lola’s responses make me sound like a dumbass.
Ozzy: It’s me. My daughter took my phone and was responding for me. So sorry
“Who’s Maren? You had pizza last night? Does she like you? Why is she texting you? Does she have chickens? We should get chickens. Ellie has chickens. They eat the eggs.”
“You’re not riding to school on your own.” I glare at her.
“But Dad—”
“And you’re not getting dessert breadsticks tonight because you snooped in my phone and pretended to be me. And you haven’t helped me do anything outside yet.”
Lola narrows her eyes and parks her hands on her hips. “You. Are. A. Big. Meanie.” She spins on her heel and stomps up the deck stairs.
Instead of responding to Maren’s cringe emoji, I call her.
“I am so sorry,” she answers without a hello.
“That’s my line.” I laugh, inspecting the tulips blooming along the back fence. “It’s fine. She won’t let it go, but I’ll keep her grounded in her room until she promises never to mention your name again.”
“You know how to make a girl feel special,” Maren says.
I scratch the back of my head. “That came out all wrong. It’s not you; it’s Lola’s recent obsession with my dating life.” And my sex life.
“I don’t blame her,” Maren says. “I’m curious about your dating life too. Have you had any recent dates? Been caught in the rain? Wrangled any chickens?”
My smile grows exponentially. “What are you up to today?”
“Oh, I thought you’d never ask. I’m finishing my coffee while my roommate and his fiancée have loud sex upstairs. I should probably make them a snack. They’ll be famished when they’re done, at the rate they’re going. I bet you’re jealous that you don’t get to enjoy my level of fun.”