Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
She ponders this for a moment. “He had his guitar out last night.”
“Did he?” I ask in surprise. “I went to sleep early and didn’t hear him.”
“It’d disappeared by the time I got up this morning,” she says. “That’s the first time I’ve seen it since he got here. The first interest he’s shown in music, now that I think about it. He used to constantly walk around wearing headphones. Getting his attention was a nightmare. But there hasn’t been any sight of them so far this trip.”
“Interesting. Maybe he needed a break from music as a whole.”
“You might well be right,” she says. “But if he’s started playing guitar then it wouldn’t surprise me if he starts writing songs again soon. It’s in the boy’s blood. He can’t help himself. Life seems to be just songs waiting to happen for him. Then he’ll want to share those with the world. It’s just how he is.”
My stomach doesn’t twist and turn at the thought. I just have gas or something. “Makes sense.”
“I overreacted to him buying the house next door.” She nods to herself. “He probably won’t turn up more than once every few years. Everything will be fine.”
Which is when a shiny, luxury midsize SUV comes to a stop outside the house. And it’s followed by a delivery truck. The big bow on the hood of the SUV is odd, to say the least. Not something you see outside of a car sales yard.
The driver of the SUV is a man in a pair of chinos and a polo shirt. He comes down the front garden path with a skip in his step. It matches the broad smile on his face. “June Callaway?”
“Yes?”
“No need to get up, miss. You keep on resting right there.” He hands me the car fob. “This Volvo is one of the safest vehicles on the road today, and we hope you drive many happy miles in it. We’ve already fitted the car seats in the back for you. They’re also top of the line and safety-wise, the best we could find for you.”
I don’t know what to say. So I say, “Wow. This is really not necessary.”
“Mr. Farmer insisted we make sure you have anything you might need,” says the man.
Grandma clears her throat. “How very kind of the record company.”
“Do you normally go around giving away cars?” I ask, bemused and bewildered. “Is that something you just generally do? Because it seems sort of huge to me.”
The man just smiles. Like my confusion at being gifted a luxury vehicle is silly or something. “Now where would you like us to put the furniture and other gifts for the nursery?” he asks.
My eyebrows are so very high. “There’s more?”
“I’ll open the garage for you,” says Grandma, taking charge. “The wonderful news about the babies isn’t widely known at present, and we’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“Of course, ma’am. Mr. Farmer is very excited, by the way. He looks forward to discussing more family-friendly plans for Mr. Porter’s future recording and touring schedule.”
“And we will be sure to pass that on to him when he returns,” says Grandma. “How about we get all of this out of sight and you on your way as soon as possible. Small-town gossip being what it is.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
This is wild. Imagine being able to afford to just give away a luxury vehicle. Nash and I also need to talk, because the twins are turning out to be an issue. The last thing I need is news of my fake pregnancy spreading around town.
I already told Rose and Carmen about my money and car woes at the bar that night. But we never specified what Nash did for work. We could say he has some money. He would need to be solvent to buy the house next door. Lying about your life to an entire town sure can get complicated quick.
The pounding of feet and chatter of conversation can be heard coming down the road. Then a familiar voice says, “What’s going on here?”
Shit.
A group of people stand gathered around the back of the delivery truck. There are about a dozen of them dressed in activewear. Nash is in his cargo shorts and sneakers. His need to walk around half naked should be addressed. It’s causing me ongoing sexual distress. Perhaps I could lodge a complaint at the next town meeting. Start a petition or something to make him wear a shirt. Though I doubt anyone would sign it.
Honestly, no wonder my hormones are so hung up on him. Fuck him for being so attractive. It’s also not helpful for him blending in and staying on the down low. Good to see him making friends and enjoying life, however.
The garage door is slowly sliding open when Grandma returns from inside the house with her own key fob. She takes one look at Nash and the jogging group, helping to unload baby gifts and nursery furniture, and sighs. There’s no way a dozen people can keep their mouths shut.