Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Sweetheart, you’re my problem,” I murmur.
Her eye twitches as she stares at me. She lifts her finger and digs it into my chest. “You’re forty acting like a teenager with your mood swings. If only your grandma and mother knew how much of an asshole you really are, they would’ve never stuck me with you.”
That makes me chuckle. “I’m not forty, but please be my guest. They’re well aware of how I operate.”
“Well, old enough to know how to treat people. It’s a week's worth of your time. I bet you can spare that much for something your family will treasure for years.”
“Then learn to keep up with my schedule, and we won’t have an issue.”
“Not everyone works at that speed. Have some consideration for others,” she throws back.
“I lost my ability to give a shit a long time ago, so don’t hold your breath, Little Miss Sunshine.”
Oakley shakes her head as she walks past me toward the inn, and it’s clear this conversation is over. As soon as I catch up and walk ahead of her, I freeze in place, and Oakley nearly crashes into my back.
“What the—”
“Stay put,” I tell her, then take a few steps toward my ex-girlfriend.
“Finn,” Aspen purrs, her ruby-red lips turning up into a smile as she closes the gap between us.
“What are you doing here?” I haven't seen her in a year, and the last thing I expected was to see her today.
“Aunt Paisley practically begged me to help the bakery for the centennial celebration. You know how I can’t tell that woman no.” Her sugary-sweet voice makes me cringe.
“She’s not your aunt,” I remind her, crossing my arms. Aspen’s the one who left without a single glance. She doesn’t get to claim my family as hers.
She bellows out that fake laugh I hate. “I grew up here with you, so she will always be Aunt Paisley. Plus, I wouldn’t miss this monumental milestone. One hundred years is a big deal!”
Aspen showing up like nothing happened between us—like we’re old friends and she’s still a part of my family—has me ready to explode. She has no business being here. I’m already dealing with enough. This is the last thing I need right now.
Aspen fiddles with her bangs, and that’s when I notice the huge engagement diamond ring on her finger. It’s impossible to miss, but I know she wanted me to notice it.
For years, Aspen was adamant that we needed to wait and there was no rush to get married. She kept saying she wasn’t ready. But that was all a lie. She just didn’t want to marry me.
“Where are you staying?” I bluntly ask as Oakley joins and stands next to me. Before responding, she gives Oakley a dirty look, which actually pisses me off. I might give her a hard time, but no one else is allowed to, especially not Aspen.
“The cottage.” Aspen’s so confident in her answer that it's almost comical. Who the hell gave her permission for that?
Oakley finally speaks up, standing taller. “Actually, I’m already staying there.”
Aspen narrows her eyes and gives Oakley a look of disgust. “And who are you exactly?”
I blurt the words out before I can stop myself.
“Oakley Benson. She’s the painter my grandma hired. She’s also my girlfriend.”
I don’t know why those words come out of my mouth, but I speak them with my full chest. Before Oakley can react, I interlock my fingers with hers. I’m relieved when she moves closer to me and smiles. Oakley goes on her tiptoes and places a kiss on my cheek, and it’s the perfect touch to this lie. For a second, when her gaze meets mine, I almost believe it’s the truth.
I see something flicker behind Aspen’s eyes—anger, jealousy, disbelief I actually moved on from her. I know all of her mannerisms.
“Oh my God! You’re such a cute couple. How long have you been together?” Aspen’s squeaky voice can nearly be heard across the farm.
“Um…it’s recent,” Oakley states.
“Like a month,” I interject because I know Aspen’s already mining for information. It’s how she manipulates people into thinking she actually cares.
“So if you’re dating, why can’t she sleep at your place?” Aspen asks, and I wish I had thought of that before I blurted those words out.
“Because we’re taking things slow. You’ll just need to find somewhere else to stay,” I tell her.
Her nose scrunches, and she pouts as if she’s not used to being told no. “You know the inn is fully booked for the celebration. And all the hotels in town are already booking with out-of-towners for the fall festival.”
“Did you look outside of the area?”
She scowls. “Of course I didn’t. I came here as a favor for your family and didn’t worry about accommodations because–”
“Because you assumed you’d have a place to stay. Not our problem. You can always sleep in your Mercedes.”