Read Online Cookie Cutter by Jo Richardson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jo Richardson
Ads: Link
of myself. Not that I’m not grateful for the gesture, but somehow, I find myself wishing it was Carter’s arms wrapped around me again, instead of hers.
“What the hell did he say?” I’m used to her curiosity but this time, it feels intrusive. I don’t want to share whatever it was that just happened fifteen feet away.
“Nothing.” I push the hair away from my face and try to get back to business.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Meg teases but she lets it go.
While she engages a nearby volunteer about the way they’re folding invitations, I find myself watching Carter as he walks home with is tools in tow. I pride myself in the fact that I’m a focused, driven, put together, recently divorced, single mother who doesn’t tend to lose her tempter much in day to day stressful situations. So why is it that lately, I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams when I’m around this man? And what is it about him that makes me want to slap his face and kiss that smug attitude right out of him at the same time?
A question, I find, that I’m petrified to answer.
Chapter 6. Carter
“Finally.”
After the last board falls away from the last wall I need gone, I drop the sledge hammer I’ve been swinging for the past six hours. I slide to the floor of what will one day be the master bedroom in this house and close my eyes.
“Mmmmmmm.”
My muscles ache. My eyes burn. My back’s been killing me for about a half a day. At least I’m sitting now. Sitting is good. Sitting is real good. Sleeping is even better than sitting, but before I do that, I want to relish. I open up my eyes and take a look around, stealing a moment to appreciate the demo I’ve gotten through today. I’m satisfied but exhausted. This one man show can only go on for so long before I need to start pulling in some contractors, I’m sure, but at least I’ve gotten the ugly work out of the way.
Not only is it already feeling more open in here, but all of the craptastic carpeting throughout the house is pulled up now, too. Not to mention the wallpaper that reminded me of those cheesy eighties sitcoms I used to sit through hours on end watching while getting some homework done. Painting is going to be a breeze because, as an added bonus, no vaulted ceilings. The biggest mistake of my life was grabbing a house with vaulted ceilings for my first flip.
Second biggest mistake.
I’m unexpectedly jolted back to my first day of law school, when I think about past mistakes. The next thing I know, I’m on the front steps of Stanford University, questioning my own motives for being there.
It should have been the most exciting day of my life at that point, but even then, I knew. I didn’t want to be there. Not really. But I went, because that’s what we Blackwood men did. We studied law, we passed the BAR exam, we defended the innocent. After my mom died, law was pretty much the only thing keeping my brother, my dad and me together. So I went with it.
Not the worst thing you can do in life, just not my first choice.
It wasn’t a total loss though, once I spotted the black haired beauty sitting two seats down in front of me in my criminal defense 101 class. I didn’t waste a single second stepping in front of her so she couldn’t leave without telling me who she was.
“Carter Blackwood,” I said, holding out a welcoming hand.
“I know who you are.” She gave me a secretive smile, as she took it.
Her hand was soft, warm, and she had this air about her. She was confident, self-sustaining.
“Yeah?”
“Well who doesn’t? Your father’s law firm is legendary around here ever since the Silkensen case.”
Roy Silkensen was the son of a big time investment tycoon from Northern California that made the news a couple years before I graduated high school. He’d been pulled over for speeding and as it turned out, he was also drunk. When they asked him to step out of the car for his Breathalyzer test, they noticed a girl passed out
“What the hell did he say?” I’m used to her curiosity but this time, it feels intrusive. I don’t want to share whatever it was that just happened fifteen feet away.
“Nothing.” I push the hair away from my face and try to get back to business.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Meg teases but she lets it go.
While she engages a nearby volunteer about the way they’re folding invitations, I find myself watching Carter as he walks home with is tools in tow. I pride myself in the fact that I’m a focused, driven, put together, recently divorced, single mother who doesn’t tend to lose her tempter much in day to day stressful situations. So why is it that lately, I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams when I’m around this man? And what is it about him that makes me want to slap his face and kiss that smug attitude right out of him at the same time?
A question, I find, that I’m petrified to answer.
Chapter 6. Carter
“Finally.”
After the last board falls away from the last wall I need gone, I drop the sledge hammer I’ve been swinging for the past six hours. I slide to the floor of what will one day be the master bedroom in this house and close my eyes.
“Mmmmmmm.”
My muscles ache. My eyes burn. My back’s been killing me for about a half a day. At least I’m sitting now. Sitting is good. Sitting is real good. Sleeping is even better than sitting, but before I do that, I want to relish. I open up my eyes and take a look around, stealing a moment to appreciate the demo I’ve gotten through today. I’m satisfied but exhausted. This one man show can only go on for so long before I need to start pulling in some contractors, I’m sure, but at least I’ve gotten the ugly work out of the way.
Not only is it already feeling more open in here, but all of the craptastic carpeting throughout the house is pulled up now, too. Not to mention the wallpaper that reminded me of those cheesy eighties sitcoms I used to sit through hours on end watching while getting some homework done. Painting is going to be a breeze because, as an added bonus, no vaulted ceilings. The biggest mistake of my life was grabbing a house with vaulted ceilings for my first flip.
Second biggest mistake.
I’m unexpectedly jolted back to my first day of law school, when I think about past mistakes. The next thing I know, I’m on the front steps of Stanford University, questioning my own motives for being there.
It should have been the most exciting day of my life at that point, but even then, I knew. I didn’t want to be there. Not really. But I went, because that’s what we Blackwood men did. We studied law, we passed the BAR exam, we defended the innocent. After my mom died, law was pretty much the only thing keeping my brother, my dad and me together. So I went with it.
Not the worst thing you can do in life, just not my first choice.
It wasn’t a total loss though, once I spotted the black haired beauty sitting two seats down in front of me in my criminal defense 101 class. I didn’t waste a single second stepping in front of her so she couldn’t leave without telling me who she was.
“Carter Blackwood,” I said, holding out a welcoming hand.
“I know who you are.” She gave me a secretive smile, as she took it.
Her hand was soft, warm, and she had this air about her. She was confident, self-sustaining.
“Yeah?”
“Well who doesn’t? Your father’s law firm is legendary around here ever since the Silkensen case.”
Roy Silkensen was the son of a big time investment tycoon from Northern California that made the news a couple years before I graduated high school. He’d been pulled over for speeding and as it turned out, he was also drunk. When they asked him to step out of the car for his Breathalyzer test, they noticed a girl passed out
Similar Books
