Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Are you scared?”
“No,” I lie. I am scared; I’m always scared of taking chances. Every decision in my life is planned out. I don’t take risks. I do not jump the gun or do things on a whim. My twin sister, Willow, does that, but not me. I’m careful with every single decision I make. Maybe even too careful.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I have my car.” I point across the lot toward my red Audi A6. “It’s my baby. I can’t leave it here.”
“All right, then follow me,” he suggests.
Shit.
“I…” I look from him to my car then back again. “I can’t,” I whisper regretfully. Yes, I want to hang out with him. Yes, I want to be the kind of girl who does crazy shit like get on a bike with a guy she hardly knows to celebrate her new job. And maybe that celebrating happens with a few shots of cheap alcohol and a few—hopefully—really great orgasms. I want to be that girl, but it’s not who I am. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” I hand him back his helmet, and he takes it this time while studying me intently. “It was nice seeing you, Harlen. I’m glad you’re doing better.” I back up a step. “See you around.”
I turn on my heels and head across the lot. Getting in my car, I toss my purse onto the seat next to me then start the engine. I look out of the windshield, expecting Harlen to be gone. He’s not. He’s still straddling his bike, but now his torso is turned and his eyes are locked on me with his brows pulled together.
Dragging in a breath, I remind myself one more time that it’s for the best that I didn’t go with him. I click my seat belt into place, put my car in drive, and take off without looking his way again, even though I really want to.
Arriving home in Nashville an hour later, I pull up and park outside my building then get out, carrying my purse with me toward my apartment that’s on the first floor. I live in one of the older housing complexes in the city. It’s a nice area that’s safe, with mostly older residents as my neighbors. I’ve called this place home for a few years, ever since my twin sister, Willow, and I decided it was time for us to part ways and live alone. We needed to have some separation between the two of us to build our own lives.
Don’t get me wrong; I love my sister. She’s my best friend. But I’m my own person, and sometimes people, including my family, forget that. It’s almost like they think that because we look alike and share the same birthday, we are the same in every other way. Which might be the case for some twins, just not for me and Willow. She’s always been wild and free, whereas I’ve always been more conservative and cautious.
Hearing Dizzy, my rescued five-year-old Maltese mix, barking on the other side of the door, sensing I’m home, I place my key in the lock and open the door an inch so he doesn’t have a chance to escape. Something he will do if I’m not careful. Bending at the knees, I scoop him up against my chest and take two steps inside, where I drop my bag to the floor and grab his leash hanging on the wall.
“Hey, Dizzy boy.” I kiss the top of his fluffy white head and rub behind his ears. “Did you miss me?” I ask, kissing him again, and he licks my chin. I laugh while hooking his leash to his collar then set him on the ground and let him lead the way back outside. Not surprisingly, he takes us down the block, straight to his favorite park. Watching him sniff the trees and the grass, I silently promise myself and him that our next place will have a fenced in backyard, where he can run free anytime he wants.
On that thought, I pull my cell phone out of the pocket of my slacks and send a text to my cousin Ashlyn’s best friend, Michelle, to let her know I’m ready to start looking for a house since she’s a realtor. Then I dial my mom’s number.
“Honey, hold on a sec,” Mom answers, sounding out of breath, and I hear her tell my dad to stop doing whatever he’s doing. Rolling my eyes, I wait for her to return to the phone. My parents might be old, but they are seriously still grossly in love with each other. “Okay, I’m back. How did the interview go?”
“I think it went good… since I got the job,” I tell her.
I then hold the phone away from my ear when she screams, and then I hear my dad in the background ask her what’s going on before I listen to her relay my news. “Your dad wants to talk,” she says, and I can tell by her tone she’s smiling.