Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“It’s a classic.” She lifts her chin.
“Pretty sure you committed a human rights violation.” I gesture toward the path through the trees. We’re supposed to be getting a snowstorm in a couple of days, and the temperature definitely reflects it.
She laughs then, a rich throaty sound that makes me wonder what she would sound like in my bed. “No one has ever accused me of havin’ singing talent.”
“Where are you from, honey?” I don’t know why the endearment slips out. I only know that it feels right somehow.
“Charleston,” the word rolls off her tongue, soft and sweet.
“Carolina?” I ask, thinking that the accent isn’t right for West Virginia. It’s got too much of a lilt to it. She rolls her words slowly like she has all the time in the world.
“Smiling faces, beautiful places,” she repeats, citing a slogan I recognize from vehicle tags.
I want to ask her what she’s doing in the area, but we arrive at the cars. So instead of trying to flirt with her, I slip back into professional mode. “Can I see your license?”
She puts her little Chihuahua in the gray car. He’s a unique looking thing, tri-colored with cropped ears. He’s only got one eye and a head that looks as if it’s permanently tilted. She’s clearly got a soft spot for those that don’t fit in.
When she passes me her driver’s license, our fingertips brush. I feel the spark of electricity through my whole body. I’ve never responded to a woman this way. Sure, I’ve dated but there’s never been anyone serious. “Give me one minute.”
Back in my vehicle, I stare at her license for a long moment and memorize the details. Zoey Hart. Damn, the name sounds too familiar.
When I relay the name to Piper, she sucks in a breath and lets out an excited squeal. She just turned twenty-two and normally, she’s a complete professional. But today, something has spun her up good. “She doesn’t have reddish curly hair and green eyes, does she?”
“Curvy and petite?” I ask, wondering how Piper knows her. Maybe they were old high school friends together. By the time she entered high school, I was already far away from home. I was determined not to become a small-town cop like my father had been. But now he’s gone and I’m the sheriff here. Funny how life has a way of coming full circle.
“You have to ask her if she’s the romance writer! I’m pretty sure that’s exactly who she is.”
A romance writer. I wouldn’t have guessed that about the shy, awkward woman I just met. Still, it annoys me that my sister knows more about the redheaded beauty than I do. “Just get me a list of any priors,” I grump at her.
“Stop being bossy,” she insists. “I’ve been here a lot longer than you have.”
Because unlike me, the family disappointment, Piper actually did what was expected of her. She stayed close to our parents and helped them out, the way I should have done. The grief and guilt eat at me. The gnawing pain is a familiar sensation by now. It’s been three years, but I still haven’t forgiven myself for not being there when my father needed me.
While I wait to hear from Piper, I open my personal phone. It only takes me a quick search to confirm the woman whose perfect ass I just saw is in fact a romance writer living in Charleston with her little dog. There’s no mention of a boyfriend or husband though, a fact that has me smiling.
When I return to her car, she’s on her phone and talking to someone else. “Is everything fine?” She mouths to me.
Disappointment kicks me in the gut that I won’t have the chance to talk to her for longer.
I manage a nod. I don’t have to ask her where she’s staying. Big Bear Lodge is just up the road. I’ll find a reason to drop in tomorrow. The thought is the only thing that allows me to let her drive away.
Zoey
“Are you at the airport?” I ask as soon as the call connects to Valentine, my best friend. I’m still in my car, waiting for the hot sheriff to get back to me. I wish a hot guy like him could be interested in a curvy woman like me. But I know better. I write fairytales. I don’t live them.
Woofer barks from his place in the backseat. I lean back and give him a scratch on the head. I’ll sneak him into my cabin at Big Bear Lodge. I’m pretty sure they don’t want pets staying there. But I figure as long as we’re both quiet, no one will know.
“My flight got in nearly two hours early so I haven’t seen him yet,” she says. Valentine used to live across the street from me in Charleston. My Nana was best friends with Stella, the woman that took Valentine in. Maybe it was fate or something, but Valentine and I became best friends too. We’ve been there for each other first as my Nana passed and then as Stella did too.