Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“Morning,” she whispers. “What time is it?”
“Dunno. Ten, maybe?”
“Ten?” She sits abruptly. “Shoot. Your uncle will be here soon. We gotta clean this place up.”
It’s cute she thinks Levi gives a shit.
She leaves me alone in bed to take a shower, reappearing ten minutes later with wet hair and a flushed face.
“Ugh. I can’t find my blue dress,” she grumbles from the closet, half of which now contains her clothes.
It’s been weeks since she came to stay with us, and yet nobody’s brought up the prospect of her moving out. I’m happy to ignore the subject. Sure, having another person in the house has been an adjustment. And maybe we’re still learning how to respect each other’s quirks. But she makes the place feel warm again, like a home rather than a house. She gives the place some life after years of bad memories and empty rooms.
She just fits.
“So wear something else. Or don’t and come back to bed.”
“It’s my take me seriously dress,” she calls from under what sounds like a mountain of hangers.
She’s got no reason to be nervous about meeting with Levi. He might look intimidating, but he’s the friendliest guy you’d ever meet. And yes, there’s a lot to be said for not mixing business with pleasure, but I’m choosing to look at this possible endeavor of them working on the hotel together from an optimistic perspective.
“How about this one?” She comes out modeling a green top that matches her eyes and a pair of navy pants that hug her ass in a way that is not helping my semi.
“You look great.”
Her answering smile. The way her head tilts and eyes shine. Those looks that are only for me. They get me right in the fucking chest.
I’ve absolutely lost my head over this chick.
“What?” she asks, lingering at the foot of the bed and wrapping her hair in a knot atop her head.
“Nothing.” All I can do is smile at her and hope I don’t screw this up. “I think I’m happy, is all.”
Mac comes over and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Me too.”
“Yeah? Even with, you know, your parents basically disowning you?”
Shrugging, she walks into the bathroom. I get dressed and watch her in the mirror as she puts on her makeup.
“I don’t love not being on speaking terms with them,” she admits. “But they’re the ones being stubborn. Choosing to live my own life is hardly grounds for excommunication.”
I’ve been worried that the longer this dispute with her parents rages on in silent conflict, the more she’ll come to regret her decision to leave school. To buy the hotel. To be with me. But so far, there’s been no sign of remorse on her part.
“They’re going to have to get over it eventually,” she says, turning to look at me. “I’m not stressing over it, you know? Rather not give them the satisfaction.”
I search her face for any traces of dishonesty and find none. As far as I can tell, she is happy. I’m trying not to let myself sink into that paranoid place. I have a way of spiraling with anticipation of catastrophe. But that’s always been the rhythm of my life. Things start looking too good and a house falls out of the sky.
This time, I’m hoping she’s broken the curse.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
MACKENZIE
Well, it’s not winter in Jackson Hole or Aspen—the weather’s been in the seventies all weekend like Carolina’s stuck in autumn—but shopping for a Christmas tree with Cooper and Evan has thus far been an adventure. Already we’ve been chased out of three tree lots because these ruffians are incapable of behaving themselves in public. Between challenging each other to see who can bench press the biggest tree and holding a jousting contest in the middle of a grocery store parking lot, we’re running out of options to find a tree without crossing state lines.
“What about this one?” Evan says from somewhere in the artificial forest.
To be fair, one of the lots we got kicked out of was for Cooper and I getting caught making out behind the Douglas firs. Proving he hasn’t learned his lesson, Cooper sneaks up on me and smacks my ass while I try to navigate my way toward his brother.
“Looks like your eighth-grade girlfriend,” Cooper remarks when we find Evan standing next to a round spruce that’s big on the top and bottom but noticeably naked in the middle.
Evan smirks. “Jealous.”
“This one’s nice.” I point to another tree. It’s full and fluffy, with plenty of evenly spaced branches for ornaments. No gaping holes or apparent brown spots.
Cooper sizes up the tree. “Think we can get it through the door?”
“Can bring it in through the back,” Evan answers. “Pretty tall, though. We might have to poke a hole in the ceiling.”
I grin. “Worth it.”
I’ve always been a big-tree girl, though I was never allowed to pick out my own. My parents had people for that. Every December a box truck would show up and unload a mall’s worth of decorations. A huge, perfect tree for the living room, and smaller ones for nearly every other living area in the house. Garlands, lights, candles, and the whole lot. Then an interior decorator and a small army of help would transform the house. Not once did my family get together to decorate the trees; we never looked for the perfect branch for each keepsake ornament like other families seemed to do. All we had was a bunch of expensive, rented junk to accomplish whatever motif my mother was interested in that year. Another set dressing for their life of parties and entertaining influential people or campaign donors. A completely sterile holiday season.