Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Rupert and Callie don’t say anything to me on the way back to their house. They don’t say anything to each other, either.
“You can have the rest of the day off,” Callie says when we get out of the car in the garage. “And we have a commitment tonight, so if you two want to hang out here and use the theater room or just get away from roommates, please feel free to do so.”
I look at Rupert, half expecting him to shake his head, overriding her offer. But he doesn’t.
“And I hope you at least take her somewhere nice to dinner before the orchestra,” Callie adds.
I nod. Good tip.
“Night.” She smiles and heads into the house.
“Would you like me to call and get you reservations at a nice place?” Rupert asks.
“Nah. But thanks.” I tuck my fingers into my back pockets.
“Well, you know where the key is to my Chevelle. If you want to drive it to the orchestra tomorrow night, you can,” he says. “I trust you’ll return it in one piece.”
“Are you serious?” I squint at him for a few seconds.
“About returning it in one piece? Yes. I’m dead serious.”
I shake my head. “About driving it.”
“Just be careful. She’s priceless.” He squeezes my shoulder.
“I’m not sure it’s priceless, but—”
“I’m not talking about the car, dipshit.”
June.
I nod. “Of course.”
He gives me a half grin. It’s a little creepy. “Very well, then. Have a good night. If you do bring June back here while we’re gone, keep your bodily fluids off the furniture. Got it?”
I bite my tongue. He’s being nice, so I try to do the same.
“And maybe get a haircut if you have time before the orchestra.”
I nod several times. “I’ll consider it.”
“I’m sure you will,” he says with a laugh, then disappears into the house.
When June gets off work, she walks toward the street, glancing up from her phone to see me at the last second as I stand in front of my car, arms casually crossed.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
I love the way she lights up.
I nod to her bike tour shirt. “Did you go home before coming to work?”
She shakes her head. “There’s a box of shirts behind the counter, so I grabbed one. I didn’t love doing the tour in jeans, but …” She shrugs before grabbing my shirt to pull me to her for a kiss.
I uncross my arms and wrap them around her.
“The Rawlings have an engagement tonight, and they said we could hang out there and watch movies or whatever. But I’m thinking pizza first.”
June’s smile doubles. “I love that idea. And I love that you’re here to give me a ride.” She teases my nape. “And I love you. Where should we get pizza from? I’m starving.”
“I have a large pizza in the car.”
Her whole face lights up. I make a mental note to have pizza with me at all times.
“Just to make sure you heard me,” she says as I open her door, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
I chuckle, picking up the pizza box so she can slide into the seat. Then I hand her the box to hold. By the time I reach the driver’s side, she has the box open and a slice in her hand.
“You don’t want to wait until we get to their house?” I ask, closing my door.
June takes a bite and shakes her head, closing her eyes like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted. I had a foster parent smack my face for stealing a french fry out of a to-go bag on the way home from a drive-thru.
“Besides,” she mumbles over her bite of pizza. “It’s better when it’s hot.” She looks over at me, with a funny grin just before taking another bite. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Are you sharing?”
“Maybe.” She laughs, opening the pizza box.
We eat the entire pizza, parked along the street in front of the bike shop before driving to the Rawlings’ house.
“Hey,” I say, stopping in front of their house. “Whatever that was back there, don’t ever stop.”
June looks behind her. “Back where? What are you talking about?”
“Eating pizza in the car.”
It takes a few seconds for her wrinkled brow to relax before she laughs. “I love this.” She opens her door before I get the chance to do it for her.
By the time I get out, she’s at the front of the car, reaching for my hand.
“What is the this that you love?” I ask as we make our way to the front door.
“Everything with you feels easy. Life is simple, the way it should be. Eating pizza in the car is a fantastic day. Being alone for a few hours feels like winning the lottery.”
“The lottery?” Before I open the door, I pull her into me. Then I slide my thumb along the scar on her lip. “Well, at least the lottery is real. I’m pretty sure you’re a dream.”