Page 20 of Time For You
“I don’t want to hear this,” I mumbled with my hands over my ears, so everything sounded muffled as I stepped onto the porch.
“Hear what?” Alex said as I stepped through the door.
“Mom is being weird,” I explained as I continued through the hall toward the kitchen, where I checked on my sunflower. She needed clean water and I quickly took the vase to the sink and refilled it.
Mom’s phone buzzed as I made my way back to the island and set the flower in the center. I could feel the headache building along with the cotton mouth that was always a tell-tale sign for me that I’d had far too much to drink. I really hope my parents were making something carb-filled for dinner to soak up all this alcohol from earlier. Otherwise, I had a feeling I’d still be feeling this way, or worse, in the morning.
Grabbing a glass from the cabinet by the sink, I filled it with tap water as I searched the drawer next to me for some aspirin. I came up short just as Alex nudged me with her hip and handed me the bottle. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one searching for some relief.
I chugged the water, then filled up the glass again before taking the medicine. I was starting to feel a bit woozy from the day. Definitely not from the numerous drinks I’d indulged in.
“I need to lie down,” I whispered to Alex just as she laughed and nodded her head toward Rory who was snoozing on the couch while sitting up. Her head was tilted back against the cushions and her mouth was as open as the front door.
The front door that my father passed through minutes later.
“Hey, everyone. I have someone I want you to meet,” my father called out from the front of the house, his voice echoing around the thick walls.
“Oh, no,” Alex said in a disgruntled voice. I looked over to find her brows furrowed closely together and her lips pursed as if she’d eaten a sour lemon.
Confused, I whispered to her, “What’s going on?”
“Girls, this is Colton Crawford. He’s the man that bought the house next door.”
I hadn’t turned away from Alex, wanting to see her reaction first. And by the way her eyes widened in shock, I knew it wasn’t going to be good. Gosh, I hope it wasn’t one of those developers Aspen had been speaking of at the auction.
It was too quiet in the house. No one said anything in the seconds after my father’s introduction. Reluctantly, I pulled my stare from Alex and sought the man of the hour. His shoes were new, with smudges along the side like he’d just trudged through fresh mud. His jeans were distressed, but the kind you purchased that way. Designer brand. The shirt was navy blue with a texture that reminded me of the long johns my dad wore when he worked outside in the winter. Hesitantly, I took in his face and gulped. It was the man from the store. The man that I’d felt up without meaning to, though I’d never apologize for it. The man that held my gaze like he knew me inside and out.
The man who smirked as he said, “I see you kept my flower.”
“Um. . .I. . .” Viciously, my stomach began to churn and I hastily wrapped my hand over my mouth. As I bit back the urge, I rushed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to throw up.”
Chapter Seven – Colton
“Well, I’m not sure what to say about that,” Mr. Easterly said with a heavy sigh from beside me.
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, either.I’d recognized her the moment I’d set foot in their kitchen. She wasn’t facing me, so it gave me a chance to take her in. She was a bit shorter and curvier than her sisters, something I appreciated. I’d always been drawn to petite women. The long waves of her hair were pinned up on top of her head in some sort of messy ponytail-bun combination. I didn’t know what to call it.
When our eyes met, I felt that same spark of awareness I’d felt at the grocery store on Saturday when she collided with me. But I’d also been struck dumb and had no idea what to say, so I said the first thing that came to mind when I noticed the flower I’d given her set in a vase on the counter.
Somehow that triggered an avalanche of conversation around me as the woman bolted off looking an uneasy shade of green.
“So, you’re the guy,” one of the other women in the room said as she wobbled in her attempt to sit on a barstool at the kitchen island.
“What guy?” I asked her.
From the attached living room, a sleep-filled voice called out, “The one that gave my sister a flower at the store.”
“Oh. Yeah, that was me, I guess.”
“Hello. I’m Mrs. Easterly. I apologize for my daughters’ behavior.”
I glanced at Mr. Easterly as he moved toward a dining table set between the kitchen and living space. “It’s nice to meet you,” I greeted as I held out my hand. She quickly shook it but held my grasp as she asked, “Are you single, dear?”
My gulp must have been audible because the three remaining sisters collectively giggled and Mr. Easterly told his wife to knock it off.
“I’m waiting.” Mrs. Easterly emphasized her impatience by squeezing my hand. She was far stronger than I anticipated.
“Um. . .yes. . .at the moment. And please, call me Colton.”
