Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Cole parked next to an old Mazda a little way away from a large barn. No other residences were in sight, and the woods closed in on all sides, the tall trees towering over the old house. Though I had to admit that the canopy of trees was rather pretty, the whole scene struck me as both isolated and sad.
But at least I could get out of this truck.
Perhaps Brady felt the same way, because he opened his door and jumped out the second Cole shut the engine off. I scrambled after him, eager for fresh air and the chance to stretch my limbs, but I underestimated how long those limbs had been cramped. As I rushed forward, my legs didn’t unfold properly, and I would’ve faceplanted in the dirt if Brady hadn’t caught my arm, righting me.
“Easy there.” He waited until I was steady and then he grasped me by the waist and lifted me out. While I didn’t enjoy being treated like the suitcases Cole was lifting out of the back of the truck, I had to admit that Brady’s touch didn’t exactly feel bad, at least not now that we weren’t cramped together in the truck.
He let me go. I took a few stiff steps towards the structures, and then I stopped. Not because my legs ached, but because of the deep breath I’d just taken.
The air smelled incredible. Like a forest-scented air freshener, only better. A million times better. I inhaled deeply, my eyes briefly closing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever encountered air this fresh.
“Are you okay?” Brady asked. “You’re not hyperventilating, are you?”
The concern on his face was genuine, and I couldn’t help giving him a small smile. “It smells really good out here.”
His smile lit up his face. “Yeah, it does. Come on in, we’ll show you around.”
“Not just yet.” I fished a compact out of my bag and brushed some powder on my face. Squinting, I checked my makeup, and then I pulled out my phone and turned on my phone.
“I made it,” I spoke into the camera. “I feel like I’m a million miles from Chicago, but damn, the air’s amazingly fresh out here.” Comments started scrolling across my phone as I spoke. Normally, I did a half-dozen live streams like this a day, so my followers were used to me popping up in their feeds.
“I’m with Brady and Cole.” I switched to the back camera and to Brady, who waved, and then toward Cole, but he was already carrying my bags toward the inn. I let my gaze travel downward and decided that my audience wasn’t going to be disappointed by his back view. “That’s right, my week in the sticks has started, as promised. And these two gentlemen are innkeepers, not the engineers of the greatest massage tech known to womankind—unfortunately.”
I turned the camera back on Brady, who seemed quite comfortable with it pointed his way. “See that handsome face?” I asked my viewers. “If I’m never heard from again, that’s the face you describe to the police sketch artist.”
Brady chuckled. “Might just be easier to take a screenshot right now. Then again, maybe check in with Lila first,” he said. “It may be that she likes it here so much, she’ll decide to stay.”
Judging by the increase in comments on the screen, my viewers liked his comments. “All right, I’m going to make sure these guys don’t drop my stuff in the dirt. Stick around for your first exciting glimpse of the inside of the inn. That is, assuming it has electricity. If not, stick around anyway, and I’ll describe it for you in the dark.” I stopped the live stream.
“Smooth,” Brady said as we walked to front porch. “Does that bother you?”
“What?”
“Bringing your audience with you wherever you go.”
“Not at all. It’s what pays the bills. The more content, the more followers.”
“We don’t do live feeds,” Brady said. “Just videos we record.” He held open an ancient screen door with holes in it.
“It’s different, recording live,” I said, unsure why I was sharing with him. But I was so used to sharing my thoughts with my followers that I couldn’t seem to help it. “It feels more like talking to a friend. But sometimes I like to record things, too, to get them just right.”
The dimness inside the inn took a few moments to get used to. And the air in here, while not exactly bad, was nothing like outside. It smelled like a vacant house, even though it clearly wasn’t. And it smelled like dust, too. I wasn’t exactly the world’s best housekeeper, but I was meticulous about dust. There was no way I was going to let it ruin all the high-tech things in my place.
The room we were in was fairly big, and I recognized it from the photos as the main lounge area for the inn. There were several round tables, as well as sofas and armchairs. It looked like far too much space for the amount of people the inn could house.