“We are. Nice of Joyce to put that on.”
He bounced Ruthie. “She and Beryl have been talking about nothing but.” He kissed Ruthie’s cheek. The one Archie hadn’t licked. “It’s nice to have all that going on in the house. I can’t believe I’m saying that, because avoiding people and life has been something of a part-time job these last few years, but it really is good.”
“I’m sure having Kyle back has been amazing.”
“It has.” He let out a contented sigh. “He’s written a book. He was always interested in writing. Wanted to be like his old man, once upon a time. I figured that was over with, but no. He actually wrote a book. I’m going to start reading it when I get back inside.”
“You think it’s any good?”
“No idea. He was a decent writer when he was in school. Essays and such. But writing a book is a different animal.”
“I can imagine.”
“Regardless of what I think of it, good or bad, I’d like you to read it, too. You’ll have a much purer take on it as a reader. And as someone who isn’t related to the author.”
“Sure. I’d be happy to.”
“Great. Well, I’d better get her in. Bedtime. For her.”
Harper smiled. “I figured. See you tomorrow.”
Mitch caught her gaze and held it, something seemingly unspoken in his eyes. He gave her a quick nod. “Tomorrow.” Then he carried Ruthie back to the house.
Harper stared after him. Had they just had a moment? No, it wasn’t a moment. After meeting her dad, Harper’s emotions were on the surface. Nothing out of the ordinary had just happened between her and Mitch.
She needed to chill out. This was a one-sided thing. All on her side.
She walked Archie back to the house. Living next to that man would be a real test of her fortitude. It would be great. But it also would be incredibly hard, unless she could get over this…crush, or whatever it was she was feeling.
Could she do it? She glanced back at his house. She honestly had no idea.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mitch yawned, the old movie on the television no longer holding his interest. Joyce and Beryl had long gone to the guest house. Ruthie was asleep and Kyle had gone to bed an hour after her.
Mitch wasn’t sure why he was still up, alone. Enjoying the peace and quiet, maybe. He shut off the television and the house lights, then did a quick check on Ruthie, who was fine, and went into the bedroom. He had Kyle’s book on his tablet. Possibly he was just avoiding it?
He wanted it to be good. Right now, still unread, it very well could be. But the moment he started reading, he’d know for sure. It was Schrodinger’s book.
He chuckled as he squeezed toothpaste onto his brush. Whatever he thought of Kyle’s story, having Harper’s opinion would help. He knew she’d be honest in her reactions. Although she’d couch her criticisms in the kindest possible way.
He liked that about her. The care she took in phrasing things. She probably would have been a great writer. It was part of what made her input so valuable to him.
Hmm. If she liked Kyle’s book, maybe Mitch would hire her to help Kyle with it. Work as a beta reader. Or even help himbrainstorm the next one. If therewasa next one. And if he wanted help.
Mitch rinsed his toothbrush and stuck it back in the holder. He was getting ahead of himself, all because he was anticipating his son had written something worth publishing. The only way to make that determination was to read it.
He changed into a different T-shirt and took off his cargo shorts, leaving just his boxers on, and got into bed. He sat still for a second. Had he heard Ruthie? He listened carefully, but the house was quiet other than the soft whoosh of the air-conditioning.
Amazing what having a baby around did to a person.
He picked up his tablet, found the manuscript in his downloads, and opened it up. He exhaled. And began to read.
Different start. No woman in danger running for her life. Instead, the book began with the killer finishing up with a victim, being careful not to leave any evidence, arranging the body a certain way. Then the point of view switched to a cop answering a dispatch call and finding the body.
When Mitch looked up again, he’d been reading for an hour. He smiled. Sure, there had been some craft things he would have done differently, places that could use a little tightening, but the story was compelling. And the voice was strong.
He wanted to read more, so he did. The next time he stopped, he was halfway through the book and Ruthie was gearing up for a full-blown meltdown. He could hear it in her ragged little sobs growing louder.
