Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“Older than she sounds,” he replied honestly.
Charlotte’s high-pitch, child-like voice was the one thing that Malachi couldn’t stand about the woman. Everything else about her was decent—cool, really. A bookkeeper for the accountant that managed Chip’s construction books and handled his taxes, the two had an on and off thing that was way more off than it ever was on.
Mostly because Chip usually found someone else to get it on with. Regularly.
The knocking started again.
“Malachi?” Charlotte called.
“Yeah, give me fifteen,” he said louder.
“It’s a forty-five-minute drive to town from here,” Gracen said.
Malachi shrugged. “We need food. Chip never plans these things out well.”
“Huh.”
“It’ll give you some time to wake up,” he added.
Gracen glowered playfully. “I’m awake.”
And he was entirely to blame.
Malachi was fine with that.
“Smile, beautiful.”
Gracen did. “So, are you taking requests?”
“For what?”
“Lunch, and dinner tonight,” she clarified. “I guess we’re having bacon and eggs for breakfast, but anybody could pull that together. Unless you burn the toast.”
Malachi cocked an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to cook?”
Gracen didn’t bat a lash. “Can you?”
He scoffed.
She’d soon learn.
Chapter 20
Gracen wasn’t sure what she expected from Chip—the owner of the lodge. Perhaps a middle-aged man still stuck in his youth because his finances allowed it, and nobody cared to tell him to grow up. She couldn’t count on one hand the number of successful, wealthy people she knew under the age of thirty-five. That wasn’t typically how the world worked.
The man she found lounging in a reclining chair, opaque aviator sunglasses resting low on the bridge of his nose while he surveyed the inclining property leading down to the river, wasn’t who her silent assumptions made him out to be. If the man was a day over thirty, he’d age like fine wine and should be grateful for his genetics. She only assumed he was older than Malachi because of the deeper laugh lines around his eyes and the few strands of gray over his ears peppering his slicked back black hair. He rested in loose joggers and a t-shirt—nothing with a name brand.
Except the watch, diamond-faced, on his wrist glittered. So did the rings on four of his fingers, all topped with a jewel or an insignia, in the case of his index. He clearly had a preference about how he liked to show off his wealth.
The man didn’t notice Gracen coming to stand just beyond the sliding glass doors that led out to the rear veranda from the upstairs loft. Stairs on both ends of the upper veranda led down to the private sections below attached to the bedrooms, but she hadn’t even realized Chip was out of his bed when she finally wandered out of her room a while ago.
The lodge had been quiet.
Barely a light on.
The kitchen didn’t look like it had been used that morning while she made coffee with what little items were in the cupboards and fridge, either. At least, the kitchen had been well stocked with dishes and anything else needed to cook a big meal.
They simply had to get the food.
Gracen pushed the sliding door open, finally gaining the attention of the man outside on the lounger. His gaze swept to her, dark brown and curious, before he pushed his sunglasses higher with the tip of one finger.
“Chip, is it?” Gracen asked, stepping onto the veranda.
He grinned wide, and his white teeth sparkled. “Chip Timlen, yep.” He stuck out one hand, waiting for Gracen to shake. “It’s Gracen Briggs, right?”
His knowledge of her last name earned him a smile from Gracen. Mostly because it meant that Malachi had spent at least enough time discussing her with his friend that he mentioned her surname.
She shook his head, saying, “I am Gracen, yeah. You have a beautiful place here.”
Chip released her hand right away and glanced toward the view of the river and the docks at the bottom of the property. Wistful in a blink. “Once upon a time, it was just a dream.”
“Oh?”
Gracen found a seat in the lounge chair on the other side of the sliding glass doors. She warmed her palms cupping the coffee mug and sipped the hot liquid after blowing across the top to cool down the first steaming sip.
“There used to be a kid’s summer camp in Riley Brook,” Chip explained, pushing the aviators high on his forehead. “I went every year up until I was too old, and then eventually found my way back.”
“This is a bit beyond Riley Brook,” Gracen noted about the location of the lodge. It also wasn’t lost on her that her phone had no service outside of the lodge but inside, it gained a couple of bars and was prompted to connect to the password protected Wi-Fi. She wondered if that had anything to do with the tall square satellite on top of the lodge’s roof.