Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Chuckling, I return my attention to the car. More food clutters the floorboards—cases of canned beans, meatless spaghetti, beets, granola bars, and bottled water. Blankets, matches, and random hygiene products fill the backseat.
No luggage. Maybe it’s in the trunk or at the motel? If that’s the case, why are her toiletries littered throughout the car?
“What are you doing with all this?” I pop the cap on a bottle of mint shampoo and sniff. Smells just like her hair. “Expecting an apocalypse?”
“Or surviving one.”
My gaze snaps to hers. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” She pushes on the rear door, nudging me back. “Enough snooping.”
“This car isn’t a rental.”
“It’s mine. I drove it from Chicago.”
As old as it is, she probably paid fifty bucks for it. I can’t believe it made the nine-hundred-mile journey.
I shut the door. “Open the trunk.”
“Why?”
I give her my hardest glare, and she tosses one right back.
The soft lowing of a nearby herd echoes in the dark. Lightening bugs flicker above the grass, and Maybe Quinn grinds her teeth, realizing I won’t back down.
With a huff, she reaches under the dash to pull the lever. The latch clicks behind me.
Circling around the back, I lift the lid and find what I expected. Instead of luggage, a few boxes line the cargo space. I rifle through them. All clothes.
She’s living out of her car.
“Be careful.” Her footsteps pause beside me. “You’re going to get my privileged existence all over you.”
“Is this everything you own?”
She sweeps her gaze over the car and the meager supplies within. “Pretty much.”
“How long have you been living like this?”
“A while.” She raises her chin, not a trace of embarrassment on her face.
I already know the answer after her apocalypse comment, but I ask anyway. “Is this a lifestyle choice or a financial necessity?”
“It’s a consequence of bad judgment and rotten luck.”
“Explain that.”
“I’m homeless until I get this story. That’s all I’m saying.”
A news story won’t pull her out of poverty. There’s more she isn’t telling me, and she won’t until she trusts me.
I make a decision. She’ll fight me on it, but I won’t be able to sleep knowing she’s conked out, alone in her car, where someone could sneak up on her and hurt her.
Digging through her clothes, I look for something casual, like jeans, t-shirts, sneakers… There’s nothing practical here. It’s all pants suits and dresses and nonsense.
“Where are your regular clothes?” I ask.
“I sold everything except…” She gestures at the boxes. “I kept the nice things that would help me find work.” She crosses her arms. “I realize that was stupid and tried to find a second-hand store today to pick up some jeans.”
“We don’t have anything like that in town.” I turn over one of the boxes and dump the contents into the trunk of the car.
She gasps. “What are you doing?”
“Grab what you need tonight.” I carry the box to the backseat and drop the shampoo bottle in it. “I have a spare room.”
“I don’t want your charity.”
“This isn’t charity. I work long days. There’s endless shit to do. You can help me with the workload, earn your keep, and we’ll get to know each other in the process.”
She pinches her bottom lip. “There’s room in the bunkhouse?”
That would be the ideal place to put her, but… “No one lives there. We shut off the utilities to that building to save money.”
“I don’t need—”
“You need a shower and A/C in this heat. You’ll stay in the main house.”
Her gaze shifts to the estate, expression pensive.
I’m offering her a journalist’s dream. She wants the seedy truth about Julep Ranch. Here’s her chance to nose around in our home.
What she doesn’t know is she won’t find anything to use against us. We destroyed all documents and evidence after we digitalized and uploaded it to a secure location.
But she could plant bugs in our living space, which means Jake and I will have to guard what we say.
“Don’t make me wait.” I push the box into her hands.
“I haven’t agreed to the second part of the deal.”
“All we’re doing tonight is sleeping.”
“I feel like there’s a catch.”
“No catch. I’m going to put you to work. Out there.” I point toward the fields.
“I don’t have the right clothes.”
“I’ll take care of that.” I reach into the front seat and grab her purse. “Is this coming in?”
At her nod, I rummage through it, searching for weapons and offending electronics. Her lips tighten, but rather than complaining, she packs the things she needs for the night.
I pull out her wallet and glance at her driver’s license. Her name, her Chicago address, everything checks out.
That done, I take the box from her and lead her into the house and through the dark foyer.
“That wing belongs to Jake and Conor.” I tilt my head at the door that closes off their quarters. Pivoting in the opposite direction, I face the Holsten wing. “My room is down that hall. It’s the largest of the two wings, but I remodeled it into two master suites. The second one will be Lorne’s.”