Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I hate that he remembers that. I hate it even more that I like that he remembers.
“It’ll do,” I say. “I’ll meet you back here when the food arrives. You should put on a shirt, Jameson.”
He lets out a low rumble of a chuckle that I feel everywhere.
“Why?” he asks. “You don’t like what you see?”
“No…I mean, yes. Well, no, you should be…I want you to be fully dressed when I’m around.”
“Why?” he questions again. “You’ve seen me without a shirt before.”
“Just put on a damn shirt.” I finally look at him again. “Please.”
His gaze drops to his chest. “Fine. A shirt it is.”
I set off down the hallway to where the guestrooms are located. I can already tell this will be the longest thirty days of my life.
CHAPTER NINE
Jameson
I tug a plain white T-shirt over my head and glance in the full-length mirror on the wall near one of the windows.
I saw how Sinclair’s eyes flared when she saw me as she opened the door. I had no idea she would arrive right after I finished showering, but I admit I didn’t mind witnessing the look on her face.
I’ve changed since I left Manhattan.
Sinclair has as well, or I think she has. I don’t know if it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but she’s more striking than the last time I saw her in person. She carries herself differently. It’s as if she’s wrapped in confidence.
I glance around the bedroom that will be my home for the next month.
It’s decorated much the same as every room in this expansive home. The walls are painted white. The carved wooden headboard is a light shade of gray, and all the bedding is white with light blue accents.
Denia liked simplicity and muted colors, as witnessed in every other bedroom and the white chef’s kitchen.
I couldn’t bring myself to open the door to her bedroom.
Even though she passed away at a bed and breakfast in Vermont, I still picture her standing on the terrace off her bedroom. It was the last time I saw her. We hugged goodbye and shared how much we loved each other.
The sound of a rush of paws against the hardwood in the hallway pulls my gaze in that direction.
I spot Dudley race by, quickly followed with Sinclair close behind.
The jeans she was wearing when she arrived are now paired with a light blue sweater. She ditched the red cardigan she had on earlier.
A glance at my phone tells me that dinner should be delivered any second.
“Dudley!” I hear Sinclair call out. “Stop!”
I set out of the room and toward her voice. I find her standing in the main living area staring at her dog. He’s taken up residence on one of the white armchairs.
It’s the one my grandmother claimed as hers.
If anyone visiting her planted their ass there, she’d chase them out with a hearty “move it” and a slap of her hand in the air.
“That’s Denia’s chair,” Sinclair whispers. “He won’t move.”
Surprised that she knows that, it suddenly hits me that I didn’t have to direct her toward the guestrooms. She headed straight for one and disappeared behind the door as if she knew that one should belong to her for the next thirty days.
“How do you know that’s my grandmother’s chair?”
Her blue eyes latch onto mine. “Everyone knows that.”
Not satisfied with that vague answer, I step closer to her. “How do you specifically know?”
Her gaze shifts to where her dog is now falling asleep. “She sat there whenever I visited her.”
What the fuck?
“Whenever you visited her?” I repeat, weighing the words and their meaning. “You used to come here before I left town? Why did you never mention it? Why didn’t Denia tell me?”
With a brisk shake of her head, she sighs. “I came after you ran away.”
Those six words hit me like a hammer in the center of my chest. All the air rushes from my lungs.
“I didn’t run away,” I say because, for some reason, that feels important to clarify. “And why the hell did you come here to see my grandmother?”
Her hands drop to her hips. “Yes, you did, Jameson. You ran away when I said no.”
I knew this conversation was coming. I had no idea it would take place right this fucking minute.
“I left New York,” I stress each word. “When you let me down.”
Her head shakes. “You asked the impossible of me.”
In my eyes, it was far from impossible. My request was simple. “How the hell was it impossible?”
Her hands drop to her hips as fury rages in her expression. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Deadly.”
Her eyes widen. “You asked me to marry you, Jameson. You wanted me to stay married to you for five years.”
I step closer to her. “I’m aware, Sinclair.”
She pokes a finger in the air toward me. “You asked me to put my life on hold so you could inherit Carden.”