Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
It was all in my head, of course. And maybe a little bit under my pants, too.
“Shit,” I said. “What time is it?”
“One o’clock,” he said, standing next to me and gazing down at the new rosebush.
Bandit had been lounging nearby, attached to his extra long leash. Now he bounded up toward Red and jumped.
“Sorry,” I said. “Bandit, be nice.”
“It’s fine,” Red said, kneeling down to greet the dog.
“He likes you better than he likes me,” I said.
“Hush. This dog clearly loves you,” Red said. “You see the way he keeps looking back up at you every five seconds?”
“He always does that.”
“Because you’re the person he trusts. When he looks at you like that, he’s making sure you trust me, too. This guy is okay, right, Dad?”
My sternum ached when I watched Red interact with Bandit. It was like there was too much goodness happening at once, and I didn’t know how to process it. Like these were feelings that happy people got to experience, and in some small way, I was one of those people, now.
I crouched beside Bandit, pulling off one of my gardening gloves and giving him some pets. “This guy is pretty alright, Bandy. When he wants to be.”
Red laughed softly. “A glowing review.”
I stood back up, pulling off my other glove. “I got caught up out here. I totally lost track of time,” I said.
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” Red said, standing back up. “These are roses, right?”
“No, they’re pine trees.”
“No need for sarcasm,” Red said, giving me a sly smile. “This is probably the only flower I could even try to identify. And these don’t look like your typical Valentine’s Day, Romeo-and-Juliet type roses, anyway.”
“They are roses,” I said. “But you’re right, they’re not the typical red ones. These are called Gallica roses.”
“And that makes them more special?”
I shrugged. “More unique, maybe.”
“Fancy shmancy,” he said. “They’re definitely beautiful. And hey, what’s wrong with a standard red rose? They have the same name as I do.”
“I like regular red roses too. They’re just… more romantic than what I want to plant right now.”
“You don’t want to feel like every day is Valentine’s Day when you walk outside your house?”
“God, no,” I said. “The last thing I need right now is romance.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Never thought I would see Liam Hardy saying that.”
I shook my head. “Well, the last person who bought me red roses seriously fucked me over this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
I took a deep breath. Being around Red was the only thing that made me forget about Colin and my old life in LA. I was plenty fine not thinking about it anymore.
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now. But suffice it to say, I’m happy with my Gallica roses, and I plan on being single for a very long time.”
“I’m right there with you on that,” he said.
Some type of understanding passed over his eyes. He stepped closer and gazed at the huge holes in the ground I’d been unearthing. “Well, this definitely seems a lot more intense than the gardening you were doing a couple weeks back.”
I was suddenly aware of how sweaty I was out here in my gym shorts and old grey T-shirt. Not that I needed to look particularly sexy for Red, or anything, but I also didn’t want to look like a mess.
I ran my fingers through my hair, trying my best to smooth it out. “Yeah. The small flowers got wrecked. I’m going to put in bigger flower bushes. Might even plant a tree.”
“That’s awesome, Liam,” he said.
I waved him off. “It just keeps me busy.”
“Well, I’m proud of you.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
My cheeks burned. Was he just proud that I had hobbies other than getting smashed and going to parties? Hearing that someone like him was proud of me felt ridiculous. Red was so much more stable than me. It was as if Michael Phelps had just congratulated me on doggie paddling across a pool.
But it still made me feel all melty inside.
“I need to shower and set up all the film equipment before we can start shooting anything,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “I, uh, should have already done that. Shit.”
Red squinted at me. “Liam, it’s okay.”
“It’s unprofessional.”
“Well, I promise I’m not going to tell your future clients,” Red said. “You can relax.”
I pulled in a breath. “I wish I could relax.”
He stared me down like he was a detective assessing a crime scene.
“All right,” he finally said, crossing his arms. “No bullshit. What’s going on? Tell me what happened this morning.”
I bit my inner cheek. “Gardening just takes a lot out of me,” I said.
“Clearly,” Red said, nodding as he looked me up and down. “But I know you can’t just be upset about that.”
“I could be,” I protested.