Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
I get out of the car, grab my two suitcases, and walk into the foyer/lobby. It’s decorated like it’s 1868, and I love that too.
“Hi, I’d like to check-in,” I say to the pleasant-looking middle-aged woman behind the ornate reception desk.
“Welcome to The Abernathy, Ms. Dexter. I’m Dottie, one of the owners. My husband, Glen, is around here somewhere. Here is your key, room sixteen,” she says, handing me an actual brass key. “It’s one of two rooms on the third floor. Please let me know if you need anything at all during your stay. My grandson, Tim, will take your bags. Breakfast is from five to nine, and dinner is made to order based on your filming schedule. Any time. Louis, the chef, is here to accommodate you no matter what time. The WI-FI password is tara1234. Mr. Campbell has arranged transportation to the set daily. If you call down about twenty minutes before you are ready to go, I’ll make sure the driver is here.” Tara1234, I think, smiling. She thinks this is Gone With The Wind too.
“Thank you so much, Dottie. This place is great.”
“Thank you. It’s been in my family for two hundred years. Please enjoy your stay. Tim, grab Ms. Dexter’s luggage.”
“Sure thing,” a kid no older than sixteen says, picking my bags up. He gestures for me to go ahead of him, so I walk up the grand staircase followed by another set of less grand stairs and walk down the hall to room sixteen. I open the door and walk into the jasmine-scented room. One whole wall is taken up by a bed that is surely larger than a king-size. The rest of the furniture is just as beautiful. Tim sets the luggage down, and I reach into my purse and pull out the first bill I can find. It’s only a twenty, but I’ll make sure to get some more cash. I hand it to him. He grins and thanks me before leaving and closing the door behind him.
I look down at my phone and see that it’s almost ten. I decide to take a shower and go to bed. While I brush my hair, I notice that my cheek is purple. Damn, she hits hard, I think as I rub it. There’s nothing I can do about it now, though. Makeup will cover it in the morning.
The table read is scheduled for seven in the morning, and it’ll be here before I know it. Before I fall asleep, I set an alarm and shoot off texts to my parents and Jenna, letting them know I made it safely. Only Jenna responds, and if that doesn’t sum up my life, I don’t know what does.
Chapter Three
She’s here. In Deacon. About a hundred feet from me. Through two thin doors. I watched her through the peephole like a fucking creeper. All I want to do is go over there and take her into my arms, but I’ve got to get my shit together. I force myself away from the door and sit down at the foot of the bed. I don’t know how long I sit there before there is a soft knock on my door.
Getting up, I pull it open, surprised to see Evie standing there. In a tiny silk robe. Her blonde hair is wet, making it look darker. It’s hanging down in curly ringlets. I open the door further to let her into the entryway. For some reason, I don’t want anyone to see her this way.
“Adam?” she asks, though we’ve never met. I guess she looked me up.
“Evie?” I question, though I know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s her.
“Yes. It’s so nice to meet you,” she says, extending her hand to me. I take it and shake it. I can’t help rubbing my thumb over her smooth skin.
“Can I help you?” I ask when she doesn’t do anything but stare at me for a few minutes. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, but the sexual tension is a bit. I finally drop her hand, and she clears her throat. I do the same thing.
“Yeah. I, uh, sorry to bother you, but I forgot my phone charger in LA. I ordered one from Amazon, but it won’t be here for a couple of days. Do you have an iPhone charger I could borrow?” she asks, shaking her phone at me.
“Of course, come in,” I say. She does so, letting the door close behind her. I dig around in my suitcase and pull out one of my spare chargers. You can never have too many of these. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” she says, stepping into the light. Then I see it. The bruise blooming on her face, and I see red. Without thinking, I grab her shoulders and pull her closer to me. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t try to pull away from me.