“It’s on Main Street about a block down from Bella’s Bakery.”
“Got it.”
I’m about to turn to leave when I stop. Should I shake her hand? Give her a hug? I don’t have to figure it out because she waves, turns her back, and says, “See ya later, Flynn.”
“Chase.” I chuckle. “It’s Chase.”
“Oh.” She smirks. “Right.”
“See you tonight.” This afternoon would be more accurate. Who eats dinner at five? That’s still late afternoon to me.
“Yep.” She’s gone through the entrance to what used to be the office.
I’m out the door with my phone against my ear before I know it. The thing had been vibrating in my pocket nonstop while Lou was giving me the tour. I knew if I’d answered it, my time with Lou would have been over.
“What?” I snap into the phone the second my coworker picks up. I listen as she tells me the pile of shit I’ve gotten myself into and that I’ll need to deal with “my choices” right away. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” I hang up before she’s got a chance to tell me what else I’ve done wrong. I also decide to put off taking care of anything for a while.
In my car, I start it up and turn up the air-conditioning. It’s hot outside for the middle of April, and it was ten degrees warmer inside that house. I let the cool hair hit my face as I unbutton my dress shirt a few buttons. I need more clothes. I left––took off, really—grabbing only the bare minimum of my shit. Like my now stain-soaked shirt and one spare. Staring at that house, I give Lou Hamlin a little more thought. After that, I spend time giving this little town some thought.
I like Zodiac Hills, Nebraska. The people have been so pleasant. Hell, not a single person has told me to “fuck off” since I’ve been here. It’s refreshing. Thinking about the morning I spent talking to a random stranger at the drug store about the weather when I bought myself a toothbrush and toothpaste, well, it makes me smile.
I could get used to this.
Throwing the car into reverse, I back out of the driveway onto the highway in search of a larger town. I passed one on my way here. They’ll have the supplies I need to enable me to extend my visit in Zodiac Hills.
My phone rings. Time to face the music. I answer on the second ring. “Yeah?” I turn down the hands-free speaker in my car as the asshole on the other end of the line tends to scream. It’s his only way to communicate, apparently. When he’s done, I tell him what he wants to hear: that I’ll be back soon. It’s not what he wants to hear. He wants me back today, but I can’t go back. Not yet. Besides, I haven’t taken time off for over a year. Sure, the way I chose to take it is a bit unorthodox. And against policy which is the part that makes my boss yell even louder. I’m so tempted to tell him to fire me. Hell, I should beg him to fire me.
As he rants, I let my mind wander to Lou. I’d love to spend quality time with the curvy woman who wields a hammer, but from the voice on the other end of the line, I know my time here is limited. It’s for the best, probably, because spending too much time with Lou Hamlin, might just derail my life as I know it. My real life.
CHAPTERNINE
LOU
“Guess what?”I say as I pull up a chair in Bella’s office. An office so small there’s only room for a desk and two chairs.
“What?” She’s distracted, looking at something on her computer screen. I know she’s listening, though.
“I got asked out.”
“Yeah?” She’s leaning closer to the screen. The woman needs glasses, but she’s too stubborn to admit it.
“By an alien from outer space. He’s very green.”
“Ha ha. I was listening, you jerk.” Looking up at me, she smiles. “Was it Wilton?”
Wilton Fink. Of course, she’d think it was Wilton. He’s been asking me out for ten years. The thing is, Wilton is older than my father. Ick.
“No.” I roll my eyes. “This was a real man.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on her desk. “He came in here.” I point at her desk. “And got some treats and brought them out to the Little house.”
“He did?” Her brows furrow, and like a lightbulb went off inside her head, she gasps. “Wait one minute. Did you get two coffees too?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. My. God.Him?” she squeaks. “That guy was smokin’ hot.”
I nod. He is smoking hot, which is why my face morphs from a cocky smile into something less confident.
Why would a hot guy askmeout?
