Read Online Waiting for the One by L.A. Fiore - Free Book Online

dear, so most men will assume you have very low morals.”
    My temper starts to simmer at the same old argument. I am nearly thirty, so isn’t it time for my parents to back off and let me live my life? They have no problem with living theirs—moving to Florida without even telling me. My parents sold their home while I was still in college and made all the arrangements for their move. On my graduation day, they dropped the bomb and a week later, they were gone. So, I think they kind of gave up their right to a parental opinion when they walked out.
    “Are you dating someone?”
    I really don’t want to share anything about Logan, but I can’t lie either. “Yes, I am.”
    “Oh, how nice. What does he do?”
    Here we go. “He’s an artist.”
    “Honestly, Saffron, what are you thinking? You met at that bar, didn’t you? He’s only interested in you because you have a paycheck. Why can’t you date someone with a real job, like a plumber or an electrician?”
    There are just so many things wrong with her statement that I can’t even begin to get into it, so instead I resort to sarcasm. “Because our plumber is seventy-three and the electrician is sixty-seven.”
    “Don’t talk back to me. You know what I’m saying. Your friend Gwen had no trouble landing a man with a paying job. Why can’t you?”
    I start to bang my head on the counter. Why the hell do I answer the damn phone? Note to self, do not answer the phone ever again when they call. After a few months they’ll stop trying, probably assume I died from my wild ways.
    “Well, this has been really great. Thanks for calling, Mom.”
    “Oh yes, well, good-bye, Saffron.”
    I want to hurl the phone across the room, but instead I take a few deep breaths before settling it back in its cradle. Why do they even bother to call? Unless my mom gets off on lecturing me, which is a definite possibility. They don’t care about me, never did. How many times was I told I was a responsibility and a burden? That’s why my relationship with Frank means so much. He is someone who really cares. I will not let the conversation get to me. I leave my house and head to the docks as planned.
    When I arrive, I notice George Ward’s boat is on its way out to sea in search of the mighty swordfish. Doug is already out checking on his lobster traps. Now the lobster festival I do enjoy. The activity at the docks is fairly slow, though, so I walk the rest of the way into town.
    Town seems a bit more active. There is no festival scheduled for quite a few weeks. What else could draw people to this little town? I grab a cup of coffee and take a seat along Main Street to people watch. I am not there long when Josh walks over to join me.
    “What are you doing?” he asks.
    “Just enjoying the day.”
    He studies my face for a minute. “What’s wrong?”
    “My mom called.”
    “You of the low morals. I bet she had a field day about Logan, the artist.”
    I’m not sure why it continually surprises me that Josh has grown into such an insightful man. Maybe because I still see him as the kid who ate dirt. “Better. Logan who is only interested in me for my paycheck.”
    Josh throws his head back and laughs. “At least they’re consistent.”
    A piercing noise practically makes my ears bleed. There is only one thing in this town that can make such a horrendous sound. Josh and I both turn to see Hattie and Hilde Fletcher driving down the street in their huge old beat-up Buick.
    We notice the parking spot at the curb at the same time. “You don’t think they’re going to attempt to parallel park that boat?” Josh asks.
    “Considering they can’t drive a straight line without hitting something, no. I couldn’t even parallel park that thing.”
    But as we sit there and watch Hattie pulls up just past the spot and stops. I groan out loud. “Oh no. That is an extraordinarily bad idea.”
    “Whose car is that?” Josh points to the car in front of the spot Hattie is attempting to