Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“You don’t suck, but Jesus…could have called me,” she says, opening drawers and closing them until she finds what she’s looking for. “I better be invited to the wedding.”
“You are,” I agree. “Do you want help?” I ask as she massacres the sandwich she’s attempting to throw together.
“No.” She smushes the two pieces of bread together with turkey meat and mayo in-between them. “When Brew told me your news this morning, I left before I could finish making my lunch.” She grabs a paper towel, wrapping her sandwich in it.
“Oh,” I mumble, shooting a glance in Evan’s direction, who hasn’t moved from his position near the coffeepot. I can tell by his expression, that he doesn’t know whether to laugh or yell.
“Now, let me see your ring.” Holding out my hand toward her, she takes my hand in hers and looks the ring over. “It’s beautiful. I’m happy for you,” she says quietly, meeting my gaze.
“Thank you, JJ. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“Don’t worry about it. You can pay me back with tequila one night.” She grins then looks over at Evan. “You did good.” He lifts his chin, and she shakes her head then looks at me, smiling. “I gotta go to work, but we’ll get together soon.”
“I’ll call you,” I promise, then watch her leave down the hall, carrying the sandwich she made.
“That chick’s crazy,” Evan mutters, grabbing a mug and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“She’s sweet.” I grin, and he looks at the counter, where all of her sandwich supplies are still laid out, and raises a brow.
“I’m thinking she’d kick your ass if you ever called her that to her face.”
He was probably right, but instead of confirming that, I just go to the counter and put everything away. Leaning back against it once I’m done, I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you hungry?” I ask, and his eyes rake over me from head to toe, making me shiver.
“My morning meal was rushed. Are you offering to get back into bed and spread your legs for me?”
Looking at the clock on the microwave, I pray I have time, hearing him laugh when I do. “I need to get ready for work,” I pout, which makes him laugh harder.
Closing the short distance between us, his hands move to my hips and his face dips to mine. “Go get ready.” He kisses me softly, moving his hands down to squeeze my ass. “I’ll bring you coffee.”
“I don’t mind being late,” I breathe, pressing closer to him while wrapping my arms around his neck.
Smiling, he kisses me once more then takes my arms from around him and moves a step back. “You can’t be late. It’s your last day,” he reminds me. Today is the last day of summer school, and hopefully, the day I find out if I’m teaching next year.
“I guess I’ll just go get ready.” I sigh, hearing his laughter behind me as I leave the kitchen and head for the shower, so I can get ready for work.
*
“Have a good rest of the summer, guys.” I smile at my students leaving the classroom, gaining, “You too, Ms. Mayson,” or “Later,” from each of them as they pass by one-by-one. I know they are all as excited as I am to get out of here so they can enjoy a couple weeks of sleeping in and no homework before school starts back up.
Once they’re all gone, I grab my bag from my desk and lock up the class. I can’t wait to tell Evan that I was offered the full-time teaching position. I knew there was a good chance I would get the job, but with teaching, you never know if you will be passed up for someone with more experience. Lucky for me, my summer of teaching paid off, and I now have a full-time job and my own classroom teaching third graders starting in two short weeks.
Making my way across the lot to my car, my cell phone rings from my bag. I stop and dig it out, smiling huge when I see Evan is calling. “Hey,” I answer, then frown when I hear shuffling and muffled voices that I can’t make out coming from the other end. “Evan?” I call, gaining no answer in return. My hand that is wrapped around the phone clenches and my vision clouds when someone roars, “You motherfuckers are dead!”
Running for my car, I swing the door open and get in. As soon as the car is started, the phone connects to the Bluetooth and the sound off muffled voices fills the quiet space. “What do I do? What do I do?” I whisper to myself, as I put my car in drive. I don’t want to hang up the call, but I need to call the police. I really need to know where to send the police.