Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Hell, I wasn’t popular anywhere.
This was starting to look a lot like a construction site. When I’d failed to attach the tarp to the mountainside, I’d managed to track down a local scaffolding contractor who’d had what I needed. Now, three pieces of tarp created a 300-square-foot roof over the corner of the property where the guesthouse would be.
I’d nearly fallen off the ladder twice, almost broken my arm when I’d slipped in the muddy grass, it’d all cost me three grand, and my clothes were soaked by rain and mud, but whatever.
I was happy about taking the opportunity to rent the spotlights attached to the scaffolding too, ’cause now I didn’t have to stop just because it got dark.
“What the hell, Blake?”
I spun around and spotted Dylan coming out of his car. “Hey.”
Percy and Oppy barked but stayed in the truck. Like me, they were fucking done with the rain. I had the door closed but the window rolled down a bit, and I wasn’t surprised to find the boys cuddled up in blankets outside their carrier.
I met Dylan behind the truck, only to come to an abrupt halt when Soph was next to step out of their car.
Shock turned me rigid, and I couldn’t look away from her to save my life. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t worked on my apology yet. Goddammit. I couldn’t help but flick Dylan a quick glare, but I was back to staring at my sister a second later.
Of course he’d told her. Unlike me, he didn’t lie to her.
“Howdy, stranger.” Soph was feigning a casual expression, only the tightness around her eyes betraying what lay underneath.
I swallowed.
She zipped up her jacket and joined Dylan’s side.
“This is unusual behavior even for you,” she told me. “Why are you back? Is this a jobsite?”
Kind of?
“I, uh…” I glanced over my shoulder, then back at the two of them. “It’s a project,” I replied lamely. Too vaguely. She’d never accept it. “Fuck—I wasn’t prepared to see you.”
She lifted her brows. “That makes two of us.”
“Some answers, maybe?” Dylan threw that out there.
And I’d had it. I blew out a frustrated breath and thought, fuck it. Here goes. “I had to get outta Georgia for a while, and this was the only place I could think of.” I went on, ignoring Soph’s evident confusion because I couldn’t blame her. Every other time I’d “had to get away,” I’d never ended up here. “I need something to do—something to keep my mind off other shit, and I had this gift…” I shook my head quickly, getting it all wrong. The words came out wrong. I had to start over. “About a week after I got here this summer, I bought this piece of land for y’all. I was hoping to make it an early wedding gift.” It was almost comical how both their hairlines rose with the lift of their eyebrows. “I was gonna tell you before I left, but…” But I’d run away like some kid. “Now I’m here for selfish reasons,” I continued. “On the flip side, I’m hoping you’ll find this works out in your favor. Instead of waiting to be approved for a loan so you can build on the property, I’ll get started for you. In fact, I’m hoping to stay until it’s finished next year.”
They were just staring at me. Should I say something else? They put me on edge, goddammit. More than I already was.
“Obviously, I can’t build the whole house myself,” I said. “I’ll bring in contractors as soon as winter’s over, but I’ll get the guesthouse ready in a couple weeks.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m starting on the foundation tomorrow. Lights, heaters, fans, and gravel’s being delivered at—”
“Hold up.” The words gusted out of Soph. “You’re saying this is for us? Blake, we can’t afford—”
“It’s all taken care of,” I replied quickly. I didn’t want her to think about the money. “The lot is already yours—I just gotta sign it over into your name. And the rest—don’t worry about it. The plans are in place. The house will look like the others on the street. Sixteen-hundred square feet, two stories, four bedrooms, two and a half baths. And, look.” I hurried to the passenger’s side of the truck and retrieved some samples I’d collected. “I know money’s tight, yeah? So we’re going all out. The back of the roof will have solar panels, and this—” I extended a booklet of sorts that contained samples of various types of insulation. “The fourth one—it’ll lower the costs of heating the place from underneath. It’s why I decided on a conditioned crawl space. Unless you object, I mean.”
“Jesus.” Dylan scrubbed a hand over his mouth and flipped through the samples.
“I don’t know what that means, and I can’t find the words.” Soph became weepy. “How is this happening? Who’s paying for all this? Did you win the freakin’ lottery?”