Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“They’re for you.” I make it a point to grin widely, exaggerating the look, which makes her laugh.
“Oh, really?” She reaches out for the card, but I’m faster, snatching it before she has a chance to.
I grip the small card in my hand as I lean in to smell the roses, literally. Not just roses but calla lilies, which are my favorite. The bouquet is gorgeous with the white roses and the pink lilies intertwined. Without even knowing, he chose the perfect arrangement. Then again, I’m sure he just called the flower shop and told them to pick. On second thought, he probably had an assistant order them. Guys like him, all rich and professional, can’t be bothered with mundane acts such as ordering flowers. Suddenly, my happy feeling is deflated. I’m sure that’s it. He wouldn’t take time out of his day to send them himself.
“Are you going to read it? Or would you rather stand there staring at this stunning arrangement with a dopey look on your face the entire day?” Autumn grins, proud of herself for calling me out.
I stick my tongue out at her like the adult that I am. Turning the small envelope over in my hands, I slide my index finger under the seal and pull out the tiny card. It simply says Call me, with a phone number. It’s signed, with an L, and that’s it. His cocky ass just assumed he’s the only man vying for my attention. Sure, he’s right, but still. He can’t even include his full name?
“Well?” Autumn asks, impatient as ever.
“From an L.” I shrug, handing her the card.
She reads over it and laughs. “Looks like we’ve got another cocky player on our hands. Are we supposed to read his mind that he’s the L.B. that sent these?” She stares at the card, then grins. “Did I ever tell you how I met Jeremy?”
“Yeah, something about a bobblehead?” I try to pull up the memory.
“Yeah, and his bike… it had the initials J.B. engraved. I couldn’t help but think it stood for jerky baller,” she laughs.
I nod. “I remember you telling me that.”
“Yeah, well, looks like you got your own initials man.”
“What? You’re talking crazy.”
“No, really. We need to give him a name for it.”
“He has one. Landon Barker.”
“No, no, not his real name. Where’s the fun in that?” She thinks for a minute. “I’ve got it. Lucky Baller.” She nods, proud of herself.
“And why is he so lucky?” I ask, knowing I’m going to regret it.
“He’s got your attention. What more luck does he need?”
I shake my head at her. “And what’s with this we stuff? We have another cocky player on our hands? What’s up with that? You trading Jeremy in?” I tease, knowing damn well that’s not even a possibility.
“We’re a package deal,” she says, not missing a beat. “He wants my bestie, he gets me, my man, and my son. He has to pass our approval.”
“Too bad he’s never going to get the chance to be under your microscope.”
“We’ll see,” she says, waving the small card in the air at me.
“Give me that, crazy girl.” I take the card from her and shove it into my back pocket. I’ll toss it later.
I don’t think there has ever been a day longer than this one. It was a quiet day at the shelter. Autumn had to leave at lunch to take JJ to his annual checkup, which left me and the animals. We had two volunteers on the schedule for today, but they were gone by one. The entire afternoon was just me, the animals, and my thoughts. Oh, and that pesky small white envelope that still resides in my back pocket.
Autumn lectured me before she left that the right thing to do to was text him and tell him thank you. Sure, it was a nice gesture, but he knows I’m not interested. Still, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that it’s in my back pocket. Once I’ve pulled into my driveway, I grab my things and head inside. As I walk up the front steps, I take in my home. It’s not much, just a small two-bedroom, one-bathroom house, with a little patch of grass that is supposed to be my yard. With the California sun, it’s more of an ugly brown patch. It’s not much, but it’s all mine. Well, mine and the landlord’s, but one day, I’ll have a place of my own. Despite the brown yard and close neighbors, it still beats apartment living.
Placing my bag on the kitchen counter, I set my keys and phone beside it. The first thing I do every day after getting home is strip down and shower. I love the animals, obviously, but they don’t always smell the greatest, and after cleaning out kennels, I always feel gross when I get home. Kicking off my shoes, I head down the small hallway to my bedroom. I make quick work of stripping out of my clothes and tossing them into a clothes basket, then grab some shorts, a T-shirt, panties, and decide to forego a bra. It’s just me after all, and I’m not expecting company. I turn from my dresser and spot the small white envelope on the floor.