Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
But I have to admit that Ansel’s words got in my head a bit.
I thought she was just some girl from out of town. A writer herself, but not one of particularly fancy breeding or whatever. I didn’t know that she was the heir to some famous author’s millions of dollars.
I wanted her before I knew about her money, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m not the kind of guy you take home to dinner in high society, for whatever that means these days. I stick out like a sore thumb if I’m standing next to a bunch of fancy schmucks in top hats and monocles.
I expect to walk in to meet her grandmother, who will look me up and down and then, in a British accent, say ‘begone with you’.
I got a little something extra while I was waiting for the restaurant to cook her food. There’s a botanist next store,and I got the fanciest bouquet of roses I could get. Do rich people like flowers? They always have those complicated gardens they hire people to tend to, right?
My snowmobile calms down outside the Jones estate. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Jones is a common enough name. This is some other millionaire with their million dollar house outside Linesworth. That’ll go a lot better for me, clearly.
I knock on the door, carrying the bag of hot food and the roses.
She answers, looking up at me, her hair and make up done and looking as sexy as ever.
“You brought me flowers?” she says, cocking an eyebrow.
“No, uh, these are to try to suck up to your grandmother honestly.”
She shakes her head, flustered.
“Did you want flowers too? I thought it’d be weird to buy two bouquets at once.”
“I’m fine with just you, I’m just wondering why you suddenly need to suck up to my grandmother.”
“Uh... so you’re Red Jones, right?”
“That’s my name, yes.”
“Grandaughter of Lydia Jones? Nationally acclaimed multiple-time New York Times bestseller, award winning author, and millionaire?”
Red turns even more red. “Yes, that’s my grandmother. What does it matter?”
“Just worry I’m a bit too low class for such a rich woman.”
“My grandma asked you to get Chinese takeout, and here you are, acting like she subsists only on champagne and caviar. You should come in to meet her, Hood.”
I grimace. “If you insist.”
I’m not usually this nervous about this sort of thing. The Crumble Dairy Farm deals with rich haughty bastards all the time, brokering business deals and making us a bit rich ourselves. But we never really drifted too far from what we were - farmers, ranchers, mountain men. To see any Crumble man in a three-piece suit is a ridiculous sight.
We could usually deal with those types though because at the end of the day, they wanted profit. What I want now is love, and that’s a whole lot more complicated than dollars and cents.
Red leads me through the house, which looks kinda normal from what I expect of a rich person’s house. Nothing is needlessly coated in gold, just some artwork here and there and a very nice looking sofa. We head up the stairs and toward the bedroom, and met an older woman who definitely looks like Red with a few decades added on, and that’s to say she’s not a bad looking woman for someone who’s probably thrice my age.
“Grandma, this is Hood. He’s brought you not only the food you requested, but a bouquet of roses.”
“Oh, did he now? Is he trying to date you or me?”
I turn red as my girl hands over the bag and the roses. “Just a gift for you, Miss.”
The old woman looks me up and down. “If you were trying to date me, I don’t think I’d tell you no. I do understand why Red here is so head over heels for you now, though.”
“Grandma,” Red says, becoming as embarrassed as I am. They’d been talking about me, but I have no idea how explicit their conversation went. I imagine not too explicitly, but maybe rich people are different when talking about love with their parents and grandparents.
“Son, she tells me the two of you have quite the connection. She’s going on about how you’re falling in love with her, and then she says she’s falling in love with you.”
“Grandma!” Red protests. “I told you that in private!”
“I wasn’t told not to tell him,” Grandma replies, very proud to have found her loophole.
“Your granddaughter is quite lovely,” I say, scratching my head, not sure what to do with this situation. “I’m a bit smitten with her to put it lightly, yes.”
“You care enough to bring an old woman dinner and flowers. It says a lot about you, Hood. You two should go and have fun, and leave me alone here to enjoy my Pu Pu platter. Oh, could you get me a glass for these flowers before you go, Red?”