Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Cameron barked a laugh. “You really are a cynical bastard.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, fine. I’d also like information about Fallbrook from a native.”
I scoffed. “Anyone in town would be happy as fuck to chat with a bigwig writer and give a history lesson or spill gossip.”
Cameron folded his arms over his massive chest and leaned against the wall, just a couple of feet from the sprig of mistletoe that hung in the middle of the archway.
“That’s what I don’t want. It’s a waste of time ’cause it’s not the kind of information I need. I don’t write true crime. I write fiction. I can google with the best of ’em, but what I can’t get on the Internet is a vibe—the feel for the place and the people who live here. In my experience, when I sit down with someone to formally chat about their town, I get a ‘google-ized’ version of what they think I want to know.” His self-deprecating shrug and lopsided grin were charming as fuck. “People recognize me now, and it’s harder than it used to be to hang out at a coffee shop or at a bar and just…talk, get ideas, fresh takes—inspiration.”
“Ah, I get it. You like that I didn’t recognize you at that bar in Elmwood.”
“I suppose that’s true. We talked for hours, Joe. I’m a big man, and it takes a lot to get me drunk. I don’t make a habit of letting my guard down, but I obviously did that night. I felt comfortable with you. I was hoping that if I hired you to do practical things around here, it’d kill a few birds with one stone. The house gets some repairs, my aunts are happy, and we’d have a few opportunities to discuss Fallbrook…and some of your more illustrious citizens.”
I scratched my beard thoughtfully. “Still seems too simple. What’s the catch?”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry half smile. “No catch, but…I would require your discretion.”
“Not a problem. I’m not exactly known for being chatty.”
“So…is that a yes?”
I held his gaze for a long moment, then sighed. “Sure. Why not? Since I’m on your clock, where do you want me to start? Home repairs or holiday stuff?”
Cameron inhaled deeply. “All right. Cool. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but…let’s get a fucking Christmas tree.”
Oh, joy.
I figured it would be best if Cameron had an estimate for the roof, the porch steps, and basic interior repairs before he got any chummy ideas that I was here for chats around the tree. Complete transparency was important. I liked the guy, but one drunken fling didn’t make us friends. This was a job for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d happily take the dough for decking the proverbial halls, but my conscience…and pride—required that I get some real work done on this place too. I got Tony’s estimate for the roof and calculated my list of repairs while Cameron changed into something warmer than the lightweight sweats and button-down shirt he’d been wearing. It was damn cold outside.
Snow had fallen intermittently for forty-eight hours straight, blanketing the sidewalks and trees. According to the weather report, it would be more of the same for the next week. I peeked out the window in the foyer, noting the contrast of the white layer covering my truck with the dark afternoon skies. It was pretty, but in another day or two, it would be a pain in the ass.
“Shall we?” Cameron boomed, his boots echoing against the high ceilings.
I pasted a smile on my face and did a double take. Fuck.
He looked like a bear version of a GQ model in a stylish long wool navy coat, shiny black boots, and a red scarf draped around his neck.
I licked my lips, unthinking, and nodded. “Yeah. Um…here are those additional estimates for you. You’ve got some damage on that gable over your office window. Tony can have someone out here tomorrow to seal it. There are a few tiles missing. He’ll shore up the weak spots so you’ll be fine through winter, but you may want to think about replacing the roof in springtime.”
“Great. Thanks.” Cameron set the estimates on the table next to a fierce nutcracker carrying a sword without a glance.
“Whoa. My numbers are in there too. You’ll need to sign off on everything before we start.”
“Do you have a pen?” He thanked me when I handed one over, signed the two estimates, and slid them toward me.
“Did you actually read any of that?”
He tightened his scarf, then opened the door. “I skimmed it. Looks like I’m getting a good deal on the repairs, and I’m being taken to the cleaners for the tree.”
I snort-laughed. “At your insistence.”
“True. Let’s get this over with.”
Not gonna lie, it felt awkward to drive Cameron around town. I couldn’t decide if that was because of what we’d done in this very truck two months ago or if it was just him.