Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“I’ll see you later, Easton,” I said, and the girl who didn’t know I was his sister, the one I prayed was single, shot me a hostile glare.
“See ya, sis,” he called, to make it crystal clear.
I headed to the smoothie bar to get set up for the day, chopping fruit and re-filling ingredient containers that had been put away for the night.
I went about the prep errands, my mind wandering as I worked. I’d set up enough at this point that I could basically do it by heart. My thoughts insisted on returning to that lake at sunset, the way it’d felt to be held tight against Travis’s hard, wet body, the way he’d kissed me, the way he’d slipped his hands down my bikini bottoms and into my body, bringing me to orgasm as if he’d been made to do just that. A deep shiver snaked through me at the memory alone.
A carton of soy milk rolled over my heated skin helped cool the sudden flush.
It hadn’t been a good idea.
It was downright stupid and I was so rarely stupid.
I made good choices. Rational ones.
I always had.
Because if I didn’t, no one would.
So why had I allowed myself to lose control now? To let down my guard?
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
Not again.
I practically threw the carton back in the mini fridge, losing my balance and going down on my knees, the container of blueberries falling out of my hands and spilling onto the floor.
Damn it!
My shoulders dropped and I took a deep breath. Get a hold of yourself, Haven.
Above me, the scrape of at least a couple bar stools being pulled out met my ears. Ugh. It wasn’t even time to open yet, and I needed a few more minutes of solitude before it was time to take orders. And to coax my hormones back into submission after pondering Travis’s wet skin and hard . . . everything.
“Who is he?” a female voice asked, the voice close yet distant as though the person was turned away from the bar.
“Travis Hale,” another female voice said. Travis was here? My ears perked and I went still, listening, as though two girls had somehow slipped into my brain and we were all having a conversation.
Which would make me insane and I didn’t think I’d quite crossed that particular road. Yet.
“Damn,” the first voice said appreciatively.
“He’s the Pelion chief of police like his father was many years before him.” She paused for long moments and I pictured them, backs to me, staring across the club to some place Travis Hale stood, perhaps chatting with another member. I envisioned that sure stance of his, the way he tilted his head just slightly when he was listening intently. The way he listened to me, as if every word I said was important to him.
“The chief of police? God, he needs his own calendar, every month dedicated just to him. Hale, you said? Don’t they own Pelion?”
“Yup. And even more interestingly, every Hale generation has some scandal or another. The previous one was always wild,” she mused. “Hot as sin, and guaranteed to burn you if you got too close. That’s what my mom said anyway. There are stories upon stories about them. Some people on this side of the lake called them trash, despite that their family owned Pelion, because they did whatever they wanted and didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. And then of course, all hell broke loose the minute Alyssa McCree showed up.”
I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot, trapped. If I stood now, I’d totally embarrass them in the midst of their gossiping.
At least that’s what I told myself.
It was definitely not because I was hungry to know more about Travis Hale and his family, not because through fate alone I was receiving answers to questions I’d never ask.
“Alyssa McCree?”
“Mm-hmm. She was Archer Hale’s mother. Archer owns the town now. And even though Archer and his wife Bree have gotta be rich, they still live in this tiny Lincoln log house, and Archer drives a rusted, old pickup truck that looks like it’s about a hundred years old. And despite his hot factor, Travis was humiliated in front of the entire town eight years ago when everyone found out Archer was the older Hale and Travis had to give up ownership of Pelion. He and his mother lost all their money and social standing.”
My stomach tightened. Travis hadn’t mentioned that part when he’d told me about his brother owning the town. But why would he? It sounded painful. And like none of my business. Obviously it was well-known town fodder though, and a sour taste filled my mouth at the cold-hearted way the girl speaking had just summed up the situation I was sure held far more nuance, not to mention real human emotions.