Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
“Alright, sit tight. I won’t be but a minute.” I reach behind the front seat, knuckles out and waiting for Case to bump them, then I’m out the door, closing it behind me to keep the truck warm. I barely have enough time to walk around the hood of my truck, pull my jacket together to help cut the brutal wind that’s settling in with the changing seasons when I see Sutton.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I whisper under my breath. Her head is down, hair hanging down from her usually messy bun she has on top of her head, jeans ripped at the knees that look like they’ve been washed a million times over. They’re practically threadbare, and her jacket isn’t much better, thin and definitely not heavy enough to ward off the chill.
“Sutton.” Her head lifts up. She might be standing in front of me, but she’s too damn far away all the same.
“Ryland.” The rasp of her voice leaving her lips has me ready to do more than give her a ride home. She makes me question every sensible thought I’ve got rolling through my head right now, the biggest one being that Sutton is shacked up with Shane Sullivan.
Sutton
“Come on, I’ll give you a ride,” Ryland Johnson states. He doesn’t ask. There’s no hi, not a hello, and definitely not a how are you in sight. My mouth drops open, morphing into what I’m sure is a what the hell is happening here? Everyone knows Ry only has time for one person, and that’s his son, Case. He’s also the highlight of my day when Mrs. Johnson comes in on the rare occasions for her grandson to eat a hot fudge sundae with a side of fries. I swear he wears more than what makes it in his mouth. Seeing him childlike, happy, and content with a family that loves him, it makes me yearn for more out of this life.
“I’m good. I can walk.” A gust of wind chooses that moment to slice through my clothes, gnawing away at my body. It’s not easy refraining from allowing your body to shiver. I’m due for a new jacket and a new pair of shoes for this winter. The only problem is that money is tight, and come January, it’ll be even tighter. I’m almost done with the schooling I need to better myself. I just have to see myself over the finish line, and while it’s taking me twice as long, I’m doing it for me.
“I wasn’t asking.” None of the Johnson brothers or their mother will back down. This is a battle I won’t win. Still, I can hold out and make myself not seem like such a pushover.
“Ryland, this isn’t a great idea.” It really isn’t. My home life is complete and total shit, but there isn’t much you can do when you work for the diner during the day and have a nighttime job as a medical transcriptionist at home to pay the bills.
“You gonna take my jacket?”
“You know I can’t.” We’re at a standoff. If I concede, he wins and I lose, but I also lose another battle, one that’s at home. Where there’s someone who will play twenty-one questions when he has no reason or right to.
“Can’t or won’t, Sutton?” Ryland doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side, so I’m surrounded by everything him. Leather, spicy nutmeg, and undertones of cinnamon. I’m warm. For the first time since stepping outside the diner, I’m not freezing.
“Ryland,” I say his name again, this time with a warning.
“A ride won’t hurt you. Case wants to say hello anyways.” I’m ushered to the passenger side of his truck. Ryland only lets me go to open the door and keeps a hand on my lower back as I climb on up. I’m instantly met with the blast of heat, and my hands move in front of the vent.
“Sutty!” a little voice from the backseat squeals and is followed up with a “Howwww…dy!” I turn around to greet him while Ryland closes my door and rounds the truck toward his side.
“Hey, Case, my man. What do you have there?” I spin around, wanting to see him with my own eyes. It’s been about a week since he’s been in the diner, and he’s such a joy to be around.
“Ssss,” he says with a stutter. I wait patiently. Ryland does, too, as he watches our interaction. “Nack!” One thing about Case, he has one octave, and an inside voice isn’t one of them.
“Looks good.” Case looks from me back to his snack. He seems to be contemplating if he’ll share it with me.
“Ready?” Ryland interrupts the moment, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The bar in his hand looks smushed to crumbles.