Page 7 of Denim & Diamonds

“Nope.”

“Are you afraid you’re going to fall?”

“Nope.”

“So why aren’t you moving?”

He cleared his throat. “Are you…not wearing underwear?”

Oh.

My.

God.

I wanted to die. I’d completely forgotten that I had taken off my pee-peed underwear earlier in the bathroom. Here I was, legs over this man’s shoulders with my vagina pressed against the back of his neck. I started to swing my leg off to get down, but he gripped my ankle.

“We made it this far. Might as well finish.”

I covered my face. “I seriously want to die right now.”

Before I could say anything else, Brock climbed to his feet. I wobbled but stayed on. “Go ahead,” he said. “Stand on my shoulders, and you should be able to reach.”

“Do you promise not to look up?”

“I managed to not turn around and bury my face between your legs, so I think we’re in the clear.”

Oh my.That gave me a visual. Me facing the other way, my legs dangling down big, burly lumberjack Brock’s back, while he buried his face in me…

“Anytime now,” Brock grumbled.

“Oh—right.”

Luckily, my window was still open, and when I stood on his shoulders, it was easy enough to climb in. After, I stuck my head back outside. “Thank you for…everything.”

He chuckled. “Take care, Red.”

I stayed at the window and watched Brock the burly lumberjack get back into his truck. As it pulled away, I felt oddly sad. Though people here had to be looking for me by now, so I grabbed a change of clothes from the drawer and ran into the bathroom to get dressed, only to realize I was still wearing Brock’s flannel. It wasn’t even off when someone knocked at my room door.Shit. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

I finished changing as fast as I could, then scooped all the clothes from the bathroom floor and opened the cabinet under the sink. As I tossed everything inside, something dropped to the floor. A little book. My dress didn’t have pockets, so it must’ve come from Brock’s flannel. I reached for it and thumbed to the first page.

“Oh…this is interesting.”

CHAPTER 2

February

“What do you think is the purpose of that book?” Morgan asked, twirling a lock of her blond hair.

“I’m not sure.”

I’d just finished telling my new friend at the center about the little book I’d found in burly Brock’s flannel shirt. He seemed to enter the date and a note for each day of the week. Things like:Helped an old lady cross the streetandChanged a tire for someone on the highway. He appeared to be keeping track of good deeds or something.

“The last one was the best!” Morgan teased.

I rolled my eyes. “So embarrassing.”

Took in a silly, drunk woman before she got herself killed.

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