Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“Yes, but it’s positively ridiculous. I’m going to be hopeful that things will improve.”
He gave a fluid shrug. “You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I have to leave now. I have an early meeting to attend.”
As he rose from his seat, I shot him a bright smile. “Have a good day, sweetums.”
He stilled, the image of unimpressed. “No. Just no.”
“Yeah, sounds cringy when I say it out loud,” I conceded. “But don’t think I don’t know that you want to smile right now.”
Amusement briefly flickered in his gaze. “Later.” His lips ever so slightly quirking, he rounded the table and walked away.
∞∞∞
Tensing in his armchair, Wyatt sighed up at his wife. “Woman, stop hovering.”
Melinda gave him an arch look. “I’ll hover as much as I like. Now eat.”
Wyatt cast a sad glance at the salad on his lap tray. “Can’t a man have a cheeseburger in his own home?”
“Not when he recently had a heart attack,” she retorted.
He scowled. “Even the birds wouldn’t eat this.”
“Of course they wouldn’t. It isn’t a plate of seeds. Eat.”
Wyatt looked at me. “Do you see how she treats me?”
Stifling a smile, I shifted a little on the sofa to better face him. “You gave us all a scare, especially Melinda. She’s trying to ensure you don’t end up back in hospital. You should be putting in the same effort.”
She gave me a serene smile. “Thank you, Addie.”
He grunted and lifted his cutlery. “At least some good has come of all this. The damn neighbors have stopped being a problem.”
Yes, I’d heard that the young couple had gotten such a fright from him having a heart attack right in front of them that they hadn’t thrown one of their usual overloud parties since then. I suspected they wouldn’t ever again, since I knew my dad had had a little chat with the couple—he would ensure they kept a lower profile from now on. And if that didn’t turn out to be enough, Dax would likely step in.
“So, how’s everything with work?” Melinda asked me.
“Fine. Busy.” I’d only been away from the office two hours and I had another shit-ton of emails and a fair few voicemails waiting for a response.
The three of us chatted and laughed as Wyatt ate. Well, tried to eat. He kept grimacing and shuddering and cursing beneath his breath like she’d fed him goddamn gruel, the drama king.
About an hour or so later, when it was time to leave, I gave them both hugs and assured them I’d be back for another visit soon. Pulling my key fob out of my purse, I walked down the path and over to my car.
Hearing a boyish giggle, I glanced to my left to see a small kid pointing at the front window of a nearby Chevy while grinning up at the woman holding his hand. I suspected his source of amusement was the huge splatter of bird shit on the glass.
I hopped into my car, brought the engine roaring to life, and then began making my way home. I was looking forward to getting there, excited to pull out and hang up my Halloween decorations.
In many ways, I was like my dad. But there were some instances where I took after my mom—like her, I regressed during Halloween. Poor Dax was about to find that out the hard way.
I wondered how he’d feel when I blurted out the news that, yes, we’d be welcoming trick or treaters to our door. Knowing Dax, he’d retreat upstairs to get some peace and quiet.
Not used to celebrating Halloween alone, I would have invited my sisters to the villa so I’d have some company, but Alicia had a date and Harri was attending a fancy dress gig. Likewise, Sabrina and Tamara had plans—they were heading to a spooky festival. I would have invited Ollie and Marleigh but he, much like our father, wasn’t a fan of the holiday.
As I eased my foot off the pedal to lower my speed, I glanced in my rearview mirror … and felt my brow furrow. A Chevy wasn’t too far behind me. A Chevy that had a big blob of bird shit on its front window. Huh.
Reaching a roundabout, I took the second turn-off. So did the Chevy. Shortly after, I reached a T junction and went right. So did the Chevy.
My scalp prickled. Either I was being paranoid or—
No, I was being paranoid. Totally.
But when I took the next left turn, the Chevy once again mimicked my move.
I shifted in my seat, uneasy. As I drove, I kept an eye on its movements. When I slowed, it slowed. When I sped up, it sped up. When I turned, it turned—whether I went left or right.
Okay, so I wasn’t being paranoid.
My stomach rolling, I used the car’s Bluetooth to call Dax.