The Girl He Needs Read Online Free PDF

I point toward the blue horizon out the opposite window.
    “Yes, it’s only three blocks from here.”
    A delightful sigh escapes. I can easily live here while I wait.
    I head into the kitchen and look out the window over the sink. It’s a view of the pool and the river. I run my hands over the full-sized fridge. I can buy a whole gallon of ice cream and store it without worry. The kitchen is painted a buttery yellow and reminds me of my mother’s. I can almost smell the cranberry scones my mother’s chef bakes every fall.
    “It’s just the one bedroom but it’s large. The apartment includes all the essentials. Such as a TV, internet, a five-piece kitchen, and full bath.” She leads me down the hallway. The bedroom has French doors that open out onto a small balcony and a simple but elegantly made queen-sized sleigh bed. I imagine staying in bed all day reading a book. I imagine making dinner for Will and catching up as we sit on the balcony or even the dock. Once I have that vision, I can’t imagine anything else.
    It’s more than I dreamt, or dared to hope for.
    Suddenly, I’m afraid she’ll turn me down. I look up at the ceiling and the fans that turn slowly, trying to steady my racing heart. Standing here fills me with a sense of coming home that I don’t want to lose. Part of me screams to run away as fast as I can but another part, the one that’s done without for two years, stamps down the screamer and convinces me to stay.
    “I love it,” I tell her. “I would love to fill out an application. I can pay for six weeks upfront. I know I’m young and maybe not your ideal tenant”—I gesture to the henna that covers my legs and arms—“I don’t do parties. I like to keep to myself.”
    I want this place, admitting that scares me. As I take in the space around me, I push back a longing to customize it by buying throw pillows for the couch in chevron patterns with funky colors. I want to buy a giant bottle of detergent instead of the little boxes from the vending machine. For the first time, I experience pangs of angst knowing the last two years of my life do not scream reliable or dependable.
    “Let’s go down to my kitchen and write out the agreement over a glass of iced tea,” Mrs. Cramer says.
    “Thank you.” I take her hands in mine. “Thank you,” I gush.
    I want to say more, to let her know she’s safe taking a chance on me. I want to hug her. I open my mouth but struggle with the words.
    She pats my arm. “I’ve good instincts about people, my dear, and I believe we’ll be a good fit. After all, how many people out there know Remington did paintings? Most just know about the bronze pieces.”
    The first thing I’m going to do after I move in, besides buy a car, is sit on that balcony and watch the sunrise with a cup of coffee. Then, because I’ve now committed to a large expense, I’m going to find a second job.
    I follow Mrs. Cramer down the stairs, back through the garage, and into the house and it dawns on me. I’m filled with such a sense of peace and contentment that surely I must be doing the right thing. I look around one last time, excited to make this place my home. Temporarily.
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    I ease the beer tap back and pour a perfect draft, lost in my thoughts of the simple luxury I found this morning as I walked around my apartment. Alone. Not a roommate, a fear of spycams, or loud neighbors. Just me, my T-shirt nightie, and a cup of coffee. A week of living there and I’m still awed by my luck.
    It’s glorious.
    Having arrived at work between the happy hour and dinner shifts, I found Jayne, the bosses’ daughter, sitting at the corner of the bar with papers spread before her. According to her, she’s been at it for over an hour. Apparently, this is her alternate office. She’s always here.
    Her normally well-groomed appearance is offset by the fact that she’s chewed off all her lipstick. Her chin length ash-blond bob looks windblown and a pencil