Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Now I know I’m screwed because if I don’t kiss this man before I go, something tells me I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
Maybe a tad overdramatic, but I don’t care right now. I’m too curious for my own good.
Once I’m clean, I hop out of the shower, run a brush through my hair, and throw on a light dusting of makeup.
I opt for another light summer dress, jean jacket, and my trusty flats.
Professional, yet not trying too hard. I go to grab my notebook when I hear the doorbell.
I know it’s him.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm the nervous energy that has started to pump through my veins.
When I feel like I have a handle on myself, I step over to the door and throw it open.
“Hey,” I say as I stand awkwardly in the foyer.
“Hey yourself.”
Moving out of the way, he steps into the foyer once I give him room to pass. His presence feels all-encompassing. He’s larger than life in this small space, which is ironic because this house isn’t small at all. “Sleep well?”
“Like a baby.” My hand lifts to the top of my head, and I push down the hair, afraid it’s a mess, hence his comment. He cocks his head at me, and his lips tip up on the right side.
“Babies are actually terrible sleepers.” He drills me with his stare, and I know he’s trying to read me.
“Why would you say that?” I am lying. I’m not sure how he can tell, but I’m curious to find out.
“I am really good at reading people.” Matter-of-fact. Arrogance dripping, but still, I find it sexy. I have some serious problems.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I’m not good at all things with people, but telling if someone is lying is something I’m extremely good at.”
“And just what aren’t you good at? We didn’t find anything yesterday.”
“Emotions.” That has me cocking my head at his admittance. I didn’t expect him to admit to being bad at anything.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not particularly.” His hand lifts, and he fingers a loose tendril of hair that has fallen past my ears and is now hanging over my cheek, proving his point: I have bed head. “I’d like to get back to the original question, which was you didn’t sleep well.”
This time he says it as a statement not a question. He knows I lied, and there’s no way around it.
I let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I tossed and turned.”
“Any particular reason?”
My eyes go wider than I wanted to show when I quickly rush out a, “Nope.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Interesting.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He points at the door. “You ready?”
“I am.”
“Good, because we have a long day.”
I nod, lift my bag higher on my shoulder, turn toward the door, and head outside.
It’s still early. Only 9:00 a.m.
The air is still slightly damp from the early morning fog. There’s a slight chill in the air, which makes me happy, but I grabbed the jean jacket because I know how it is in the mountains. In a few hours, the temperature will rise, and I’ll be happy that I have on the dress.
Today, I don’t need prompting to go straight to the Wrangler. Today, the doors are on. Which I’m thankful for.
I’m not surprised when he helps me get in. Instead, I just linger in the feeling of his hand touching mine.
I’m happy that he doesn’t acknowledge that my cheeks are probably red from the heat crawling down my face, but luckily, Cain Archer is a gentleman, even if his reputation pictured with a different woman every night, says otherwise.
Once in the car, I fasten my seat belt, and then Cain turns the car on. We drive in the opposite direction as we did the day before and the day before that. “And where exactly are we off to today?”
“We’re going to check out the completed model homes.”
“Are these ones already equipped with AI?”
“They are. Of course, what you’ll be seeing is the AI that’s compatible with me, but once the homeowner moves in, we will customize the program for each individual resident.”
My level of excitement can barely be contained as we drive into what looks like a mountain. Again, there are no homes, but that’s when I see a slight glimmer.
He pulls in front of it, and the more I squint and the closer we get, the more I realize that this is a fully mirrored home. This isn’t like the main building, which is half wood, half mirrors. Nor is this like the town center or the community center.
There’s no frame. It’s not just floor-to-ceiling windows with an illusion; this is a fully mirrored building. This is one hundred percent integrated to reflect the wilderness around it. I cannot find words to describe the feeling I get looking at this modern frame that feels like it floats in the space, part dream and part reality.