Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“You think I want to be after the first welcome you gave me? My truck won’t start. I would’ve called someone to help me, but I can’t get a signal.” She held up her cellphone. “Can I use your phone?”
Kage clicked his teeth, sliding his tongue against his incisors. He looked out into the wilderness and sighed.
“Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
She followed him inside his home, then stepped aside as he closed and locked the door behind them.
“Here.” Instead of handing her his cellphone, he gave her a bunch of bullets.
She looked at the bullets, then shoved them in her pocket. “Would’ve been nice if you wouldn’t have taken them away in the first place.”
“Would’ve been nice if you kept your smart ass off my gotdamn property.”
“You said there are some drug addicts somewhere out here, but you left me defenseless.”
“You’re hardly defenseless. Your mouth shoots one hundred bullets a millisecond. Besides, you have a knife in your back pocket in case someone gets squirrely.” He smirked as he watched her eyes widen, but she didn’t admit to a thing. Regardless, the understanding was made. He handed her his cordless landline.
“No cell phone, huh?”
“Do you want to make a call or not?”
“Of course I do, but now it’ll be harder to trace where I am.”
What she didn’t say was just as clear as what she had. This lady is a piece of work. Imagine needing assistance, and insinuating you may be in danger from the very person you’re asking for help? The motherfuckin’ nerve…
“I have a cellphone, but the landline has better sound quality, and your call is less likely to drop.”
She nodded in understanding as she dialed a number. He left her standing close to the front door, and made his way into the kitchen to fix another pot of coffee. She yelled out, asking for his address. He told her, then heard her make arrangements for a tow. He could’ve done the haul for her, but didn’t feel she deserved it.
“Okay, thanks.” She walked into his kitchen and handed him the phone. “Your house is nice,” she stated in a silky tone.
He placed the phone down, and started making the coffee.
“I guess it’ll take about forty-five minutes to an hour for ’em to get out this way. Do you mind if I have a seat?” she asked while wandering about, looking at his hanging pans and then walking back into the living room, her eyes glued to the few framed photos he had on the fireplace mantel.
“Yeah, you can park it.”
Instead, she just kept standing there, staring at the photos. Some were of his mother, others of him and his favorite motorcycle. Fishing trips with a few of his cousins over the years. Then her eyes landed on the framed drawing of the river. She squinted as she glared at the bottom right hand corner.
“Wait. This is your name, right? You drew this?”
“Yeah. Do you want some coffee?”
“Sure, but this… oh my goodness. You’re really good. I mean really good! I thought this was a black and white photo at first. I like to sketch and do it for work, but they’re nothin’ award-worthy. I mainly do it for the museum displays, informative books and literature for work. I’m not an artist by a long shot, but I’ve always admired people who can draw to the degree that you can. Any more drawings I can see?”
“Evidently you think I’m some sort of cartoon character, so why don’t you just look at me, the living sketch, instead?”
They glared at one another before she burst out laughing. Shaking his head, he turned around and grabbed two coffee cups from a cupboard.
“Why are you like this?!” she asked between chuckles.
“Like what?”
“Sarcastic and miserable. You’re livin’ in the middle of paradise, but instead of appreciating that, you’re paranoid, thinkin’ anyone that wanders onto your property must have an ulterior motive and is out to get you. You have more cameras than a Hollywood blockbuster movie set, and you’re mean! What is wrong with you?” She was still laughing—but he could tell she was genuinely serious, and wanted answers.
“I have reason to be paranoid. If you only knew.” He sighed. “As far as bein’ mean, well, I don’t know about that,” he shrugged, “I consider myself just honest. Some folks can’t handle the real deal. I’m crazy and cantankerous, I guess, too.”
“Honesty isn’t a problem, at least not for me. It’s the heartlessness that I take issue with, Mr. Wilde. The react now, check the facts later is a recipe for disaster, too. You are legit mean. Trust me on this.”
“So the fuck what?” He tossed up his hands. “And it’s good and wonderful that I don’t care about your recipes, for disaster, seasonings, or pots and pans to cook it with, either. Furthermore, I don’t owe everyone kindness. That shit is earned. Bein’ kind to folks who don’t deserve it ends up gettin’ people bein’ taken advantage of, or worse yet, killed. And why should I trust you? I don’t even know you, woman. You don’t know me, either, to make any assessments, predictions, calculations and evaluations ’bout me, or my life.”