Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series Read Online Free Page A

she saw it was me, holding her keys to the file room.
    “ Where are the boys?” She asked,
surprised.
    “In the car.”
    “Why?” She was digging into the pocket of
her gray scrub top.
    “Caleb was sleeping—what are you doing?” My
eyes grew wide as she dumped a fist full of Halloween candy into my
purse.
    “Give this to them, from me.”
    “They’ll love you forever.” I tucked my
phone into my pocket to play with my belt loops.
    “Are you okay?”
    “I’m breathing.” I responded without
thinking, and realized how it sounded. “I’m fine. The kids are
going to be late if I don’t get out of here, though.”
    “Quick question: how would you feel about
buying Noah a car for his birthday?”
    “What?”
    “He’s going to be sixteen—”
    “No way.”
    “But he’ll have his license when he’s done
with that class and I want—”
    “I can’t talk about this now . . . I’m
late.”
    She nodded and thanked me.
    I practically ran back to the elevator and
slammed the button. If I hit too much traffic, the kids would be
late. As my stress level rose, I reminded myself to not worry about
things I couldn’t change and checked my phone for the time. The
wallpaper popped up, distracting me. It was a picture of Sol and me
at Pier 39 in San Francisco. I forced myself to avoid looking at
his face—it would hurt too much—and drug my gaze to the numbers in
the corner of the screen.
    Stepping into what I assumed was an empty
elevator, I bumped into something. A tall man dressed in black from
head to toe. He was really good looking.
    The thought surprised me because I couldn’t
remember the last time I actually longed for a man. Looking at his
face didn’t hurt, so I let myself stare. His hair and clothes were
a mess, but he wore the chaos well. He was very clean and his skin
looked soft. His features held an essence of Jim Morrison in his
strong jaw line; maybe a little James Dean, too, in his hair and
the way he arched his long torso. It wasn’t a slump—more of a
stance. One hand was set across his stomach as he stared at me in
disbelief. I realized my shoulder was still poking his chest and
stepped aside, into the elevator.
    “Sorry.” I flopped the phone into my purse
and made myself look away.
    “That’s perfectly alright,” he said, in a
distinct English accent. “Going down?”
    “P2,” I glanced at the buttons. Mine was
already lit.
    “Well, there you go.” He crossed his arms,
bringing one hand to his eyebrow where the thumb and index finger
pinched at the flesh.
    Something about him was familiar. I knew I
didn’t know him, but there was a sense, a veiled awareness that I
was missing something. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”
    He stared. “Yeah, I work in the building . .
. uh, Repairs department.”
    Sol worked in construction and I’d been
on-site enough to recognize the common solidity a man acquired with
the labor, the sturdiness it brought. This guy seemed too . . .
genteel for such work. His hands were too clean. No scars or
calluses. I also used to buy Sol’s clothes. This man’s sport coat
looked tailored and the rumpled shirt underneath bore a designer
insignia that screamed expensive. His jeans, worn a little too
tight and a little too low, looked like they cost around seven
hundred dollars. Finally, my eyes fell upon his shoes. They were
worn-looking but also expensive. Not that it was any of my
business.
    I wiped the skepticism away and turn my
attention to the numbers over the door. The needle stopped on the P
that marked my level. I stepped forward and waited.
    And kept waiting.
    “Why isn’t it opening?”
    “Give it a second,” he soothed.
    His inflections rang sweet in the quiet
space, calling my attention to his lips. Not too thin, not too
full, perfectly proportioned to the rest of his face. It was oddly
engrossing, watching them pull into a slight smile as his long
fingers swept through his unkempt hair.
    “Any moment, now.” He smiled,