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)
“Birdie Ellis,” Maggie said, turning her nose up slightly. “That woman needs a hobby.”
“So does Spencer,” I muttered. “Hopefully the work it takes to maintain the group will keep them both fully occupied.”
She eyed me. “Found a way to get him out of your hair a little bit, huh?”
“Am I that transparent?”
“To me. Honey, I’ve known you all your life. I know you down deep. Don’t forget it.” She leaned forward and looked into my eyes, pinching my cheek affectionately in the way I’d only ever let Maggie get away with.
“I never do, Maggie.”
The bell above the door sounded over the low hum of the end of the breakfast rush and a moment later, I saw Gage Buchanan sit down next to me in my peripheral vision. Just the person I had no interest in seeing.
Or thinking about.
Or acknowledging.
“Travis,” he greeted, dashing my hopes that he wouldn’t notice me, even if I was sitting right next to him.
“Gage.” I took another sip of my coffee, not glancing his way.
“Gage Buchanan,” Maggie greeted happily. “What brings you to our side of the lake?”
“I missed you, Maggie. It’s been too long.”
Maggie made a scoffing noise. “Oh please, you charmer.”
Gage chuckled. “I’m picking up some trees my mother ordered that couldn’t be delivered until this weekend. Our landscaping crew is there today though, ready to plant, so here I am.”
Maggie nodded “The nursery is installing landscaping in three new builds this week. Chase Dooley was in yesterday and said they’re stretched thin. Coffee?”
“Please. It’s fine, it gave me a good excuse to visit. How have you been?”
“Great. We’re updating and expanding the kitchen beginning September first. Norm is finally getting the Top Chef setup he’s always wanted, just in time to think about retiring.” She turned her head and said the last part so Norm could hear. But then turned and winked at us.
“I don’t believe in retirement,” Norm called back. “I’m going to take my final breath right here standing at this griddle.”
“Oh that’ll be swell for business.” Maggie rolled her eyes as she grabbed menus for a couple sitting at the end of the counter.
“What’s new, Hale?” Gage asked when Maggie had walked away.
“Not a whole lot.”
We sat in silence for a minute. “What can you tell me about Haven Torres?”
My muscles tensed. I took a sip of my coffee, setting it down slowly. “Why don’t you ask her what you want to know on your dinner date?” The words felt strangely acidic in my throat.
He paused. “I will. But I wanted to get your take on her. We’ve always had similar taste in women.”
I almost laughed. We’d competed over women in the past, both of us “winning” about as equally. What he didn’t know was that he’d already “won” Haven. Or at least, he’d won her interest. I wouldn’t tell him that though. I’d told her I’d help her get him to notice her with a faux competition, despite that it made my gut churn.
You’re taking a hiatus from women, remember?
At least, anything more than an uncomplicated moonlit rendezvous.
I angled my body toward him. “She’s . . . different.” I let the word hang suggestively, watching Gage to see what he did with it.
“That’s exactly what I think,” he agreed on an exhale. “God, I’ve grown so bored with nothing but women who . . . worship me and yet don’t really know me at all.” He looked away as if considering those poor, worshipful fools who hung on his every word, and yet heard nothing he said. The interesting thing was, I could relate. I understood exactly what he was saying. And I didn’t necessarily like that fact.
“She has this weird thing for possums,” he muttered, his brows going in opposite directions as though he was still trying to work that one out. “But she’s funny and charming and”—he paused, scratching the back of his neck in thought—“that hair. God, can you even imagine?” His expression had suddenly gone sort of dreamy and unfocused and I knew exactly what he was imagining. That hair wrapped around his fist as he—I shut the image down, slamming it hard into the floor and stomping it once for good measure. Unfortunately, he was still talking. “She has this beauty that sneaks up on you. You know, like”—he clapped his hands together suddenly, causing me to jostle the coffee I’d just been bringing to my mouth—“boom! Ambush.”
Oh, I knew. I pictured the way she looked in the morning as she cared for her plants, tipping a watering can, peace in her expression, tenderness even. The light of sunrise washing over her, glinting through her curls. The strap of her tank top falling slowly down her shoulder as I watched in quiet awe. I took a slow sip of the lukewarm brew. It was suddenly bitter and unpalatable. Ambush. That was a good way to put it. I’d stepped on the bomb that was Haven Torres. In some ways, I felt as though I’d been blown to smithereens. I was desperately trying to put the pieces back together. Or maybe I was lying there, happily scattered. Stupidly scattered. Maybe I never wanted to be put back together. At least not in the same order. God, I didn’t even know anymore.