Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I joined her, waiting for her to acknowledge me. She gave up, standing and passing a hand over her forehead. She’d changed into a T-shirt with her jeans, and her hair was piled up on her head, pieces escaping all over, making her look cute as well as sexy.
“I think you need gas.”
“I just filled it.”
“A block in the line, then. Lemme look at it.”
She put a hand on her hip. “I somehow doubt you cut your own grass, superstar.”
Her tone made me laugh. It was almost teasing, not angry like the other day.
“Not lately, I admit. I have no grass. With the droughts in California, they encourage rocks and cacti more than grass. But I cut a lot of lawns in my time.” I bent down and checked the line and added air into the system. Then I stood and pulled on the starter, the sound of the engine firing up filling me with satisfaction. “Still got it.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me.”
“Let you what?”
“Cut the grass.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I was gonna go for a run, but my legs are a bit sore from being on a horse after so long, so this will give me some exercise and stretch the muscles.”
She bit her lip, and without thinking, I tapped the lower one. “Stop overthinking. Let me cut the damn lawn.”
She hesitated, and I decided to bargain with her. Why it was so important for her to let me cut her damn grass, I had no idea, but it was. “You can bake me more pies.”
“Oh. You really liked it?”
“Loved it.”
“How about…” She paused, then swallowed, looking nervous. “How about I make us dinner? You said you wanted a burger the other day?”
I stuck out my hand. “That includes pie, right?”
She let me take her hand. It felt familiar. Right. Warm and small nestled against my palm.
“Right.”
I shook her hand firmly. “Deal.”
10
OLIVER
Cutting Kassie’s grass brought back memories of my teenage years living in Richton. Getting up early in the mornings on the weekends, going house to house, cutting grass, trimming hedges, doing whatever I could for pocket money. I had regulars that I went to every week, and new ones popped up all the time, which lined my pocket with dollar bills and promises of spending the money I earned. I enjoyed the simple, mindless task that was a reminder of growing up here.
Once I was done, I put the lawn mower away and used her trimmer around the fence and edges of the property, pleased when I was finished. I hadn’t lost my touch. The yard looked great, and I had a feeling the burgers on the grill would be a worthwhile reward. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had a burger on the grill. Or a home-cooked meal made by someone that I didn’t have to reheat.
I headed upstairs, grabbed a shower, and then went out in search of something to bring with me to Kassie’s. It felt wrong to show up empty-handed. My mother had always drummed into my head you never went somewhere without offering the host or hostess a gift—she was firm on that rule. I had noticed Kassie was drinking white wine the other night, so I picked up a bottle at the little liquor store and then for some reason headed into the flower shop and looked around, unsure what I was searching for. Luckily, the young girl behind the counter was helpful and put together a nice bouquet for me, which I took home.
I went straight to Kassie’s, knocking rapidly, somehow more eager to see her than I realized. She answered the door, greeting me with one of her shy smiles. She had changed into leggings and an oversized plaid shirt, looking effortlessly pretty. Her hair was loose, hanging down her back, glinting red in the late afternoon sun. She laughed as I handed her the wine and the flowers, shaking her head.
“There is no need for such extravagances, Oliver,” she said, yet looking delighted as she sniffed the flowers.
“My mother always taught me to bring the hostess a thank-you,” I replied.
“Well, this is a thank-you for cutting the lawn, so I feel like I should be giving you the wine and flowers,” she teased.
“We could give thanks back and forth all night, or you could invite me in and really thank me with one of those delicious-smelling burgers.”
She laughed. “Come on in. I just took them off the grill.”
I followed her to the kitchen, inhaling deeply. “Dinner smells awesome.”
“Let me put these in water, and we can eat,” she said.
Kassie was obviously in her element in the kitchen, moving around easily, no hesitation as she got a vase from the cupboard, added the flowers and some water, then grabbed a couple of wineglasses and the corkscrew, offering it to me. I uncorked the wine and poured her a glass, not taking any for myself. She brought over a platter of burgers, a leafy-green salad, then opened the oven door and filled the basket with some crispy-looking potato wedges.