Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“I wonder who that kid was that tried to kill me?” I wonder out loud.
“He was going too fast for me to see,” Brad replies grimly. “He did yell sorry.”
“Well, that’s something.”
We come to a stop at the bottom of the lift, and I hobble out of the gondola. Sitting for only twenty minutes has made the ankle swell more and get stiff.
Damn it.
We begin to walk to the truck, but Brad stops me. “Wait here, I’ll go get the truck.”
“You can’t drive back here.”
A cocky smile slides over his lips. “Honey, I can drive wherever I want. And you’re injured. Sadie, stay with Hannah.”
Sadie sits at my side and we wait while Brad, still wearing the sleeveless shirt, jogs to the truck and returns with it a few minutes later.
He helps me inside, and begins the descent down the mountain.
“I live not too far away,” he informs me. “We’ll get some ice on the ankle.”
“It’s too nice outside to spend it indoors,” I reply with a slight pout. “Dumb ankle.”
He smiles. “I think we can work something out.”
He’s right, it doesn’t take us long to get down the mountain and to his house. He has a nice sized lot with a tall white fence surrounding it. The house is grey and not too big. Well cared for, and new.
“Did you have this built?”
“Yeah, about three years ago,” he says as he pulls into the garage, cuts the engine, and closes the door behind us. “Stay here for a minute.”
It’s not a question, and he doesn’t give me time to ask why. He’s out of the truck, along with Sadie, and inside before I can blink. I’m waiting for maybe five minutes when he comes back into the garage and opens the door for me.
“Sorry about that, I wanted to make sure everything was still locked up tight and there was no danger before you came in.”
“Why do I think there’s a story behind that statement?”
He shrugs and takes my hand, helping me out of the tall truck. When I limp inside his house, he simply lifts me into his arms and walks into the kitchen.
“How about a tour?”
“Are you going to carry me through the whole house?”
“I hope so.”
I laugh and nod. “Okay. Give me the grand tour.”
There’s a white and gleaming stainless steel kitchen, living room, and three bedrooms, one of which has been made into an office. The master bedroom is spacious enough for his king bed, a dog bed for Sadie, and a sitting area. French doors open to a patio in the backyard.
The master bath is what dreams are made of with marble floors and countertops. There’s a huge walk-in shower, and a large, free-standing soaking tub.
“I could swim in that tub.”
“Be nice and you might get the chance,” he says with a wink. He carries me back to the living area, but rather than set me on the couch, he walks out of another large set of French doors to the backyard, and my mouth drops.
“Okay, this is my favorite part of the house.”
“Mine, too,” he says with a grin and lowers me to an outdoor sofa. He kisses my forehead, then turns and walks back into the house.
The patio is covered, with a fireplace in the corner. It’s truly an outdoor living space, with plush cushions and a dining room table, along with a grill and outdoor kitchen on the opposite side.
A waterfall runs behind me, making me sleepy.
“Did you do all of this landscaping yourself?” I ask when he returns with a towel and a bag of ice.
“Most of it,” he says. “Jenna helped some. She has the green thumb. I like to be outside in the summer, and I wanted a beautiful outdoor space.”
“Well, you got it.” He rests my foot in his lap and covers it with the towel and ice. “Oh, that’s good.”
“You probably shouldn’t have hiked the rest of the mountain.”
“I’m going to be fine,” I assure him. “I’ll rest for the weekend, and be good as new in a couple of days.”
“Have you always had anxiety?” he asks, throwing me off.
“For as long as I can remember.” I nod, keeping my eyes on my foot. We said we’d always tell the truth. “I can remember waking up in the middle of the night as a little girl and needing to throw up. I wasn’t sick. And once I did that, I’d go back to sleep and feel better.
“My dad wasn’t mean. But he liked to drink, quite a lot actually. No one likes to be around a drunk, even if he is happy go lucky.”
“No, they don’t.”
“I used to call it stress. I can stress out about stress that hasn’t happened yet. I over think. I imagine the worst.”
I always think that I’m going to die.
“But sometimes, it’ll just come out of the blue, and I freak out. It doesn’t last long. Are you scared off yet?”