Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“Boyd! Holy wow. Have you seen this?” Chloe is spinning around, taking in the mountain views that hit you no matter which way you’re facing.
“I have,” I respond with a quick nod while opening the back of the SUV I arranged for our stay. I stow our bags in the back then slam the door closed and look at her. The Rocky Mountains surround us—the vista is stunning, no doubt. But it’s her I can’t take my eyes off of.
“You’ve been here before?” She stops gaping at the view to focus on me.
“I have.” I guide her to the passenger side of the SUV and open the door for her. “We’ll come back when there’s snow,” I say and she gives me an odd look, then stops short and squeals.
“You rented a Suburban!” she says, laughing.
“I thought it was the least I could do, since you’re doing me this favor and all.”
“True,” she agrees and then grabs the interior roof handle and hikes herself into the passenger seat. I resist from wrapping my hands around her waist to help. Barely. “Maybe this will motivate you to work your way up and get your own government-issued Suburban,” she jokes as she pulls the seatbelt across her body and snaps it into place.
“Cute.” I close her door and cross to the driver’s side. Within five minutes we’re on Highway 6 headed east towards Vail.
“I can see now why you had to bring a fake date this weekend,” Chloe mentions while rooting around in her bag and coming up with a pair of sunglasses that she slides on before tucking her knee up on the seat and turning towards me.
“Oh, yeah? Why is that?”
“The candy plane is obviously a huge turn-off,” she quips with a dramatic sigh.
“Obviously,” I agree.
“And this location is terrible.”
“Awful.”
“In fact, you probably owe me multiple favors now.”
“Just let me know,” I say, giving her a slow glance.
She looks away and the car is quiet for a few minutes. I think Chloe is thinking, or enjoying the view. It’s hard to tell. I take the next exit onto Grand Avenue, then a right onto Broadway and park in front of a small log cabin-inspired building.
“Are we here?” Chloe leans forward and looks out the window while unbuckling her seat belt.
“No, Vail is another thirty minutes. I thought we’d stop for breakfast.”
We grab a table inside and Chloe looks over the menu while I look over her. I’ve been here at least a dozen times. The Red Canyon Cafe is my favorite stop for breakfast if I have an early flight. The waitress fills our coffee while Chloe fidgets and reads the menu over again. Finally she speaks.
“Knock, knock.”
“Why are you nervous?” She only whips out the jokes when she’s nervous.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “This is weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“Um…” She wrinkles her nose and gestures between us with her hand. “This. Us traveling together. Being your fake girlfriend today. It’s all weird.” She dumps a packet of fake sweetener into her coffee and then fiddles with the empty wrapper, tearing it into tiny pieces before wadding them together into a snowball.
“You worry too much,” I note.
“You think?” she replies drily.
“So who’s at the door?”
She looks over to the restaurant door then back to me, a flicker of confusion crossing her face before she laughs. “We have to start over! Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Butter.”
“Butter who?”
“I butter tell you a few more knock-knock jokes!” Then she peals into a fit of laughter. I rest my elbow on the table and watch her. I love the way her eyes sparkle when she’s amused. “Oh, that reminds me, I just read this book where the guy used butter—” She stops short. “Never mind.” She waves her hand. “Want to hear another joke?”
I tilt my head and wonder why she stopped. “The guy used butter for what? To kill someone?” I guess, knowing her love of murder mysteries.
She blinks then agrees. “Yup. That’s what he did. Anyway, want to hear another joke?” She’s really interested in moving on from the butter, which just piques my interest even more.
“How?”
“What?” She blinks like a deer in the headlights.
“How did he kill someone with butter?”
She pauses too long so I already know she’s about to lie. “Um…” Her eyes flicker to the window. “I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“Yeah.” She shakes her head and picks up the sweetener packet snowball she made earlier and rolls it between her finger and thumb. “I don’t remember.”
“Huh,” I reply and stare at her for a few moments while I think about that. “What kind of book was it?” I ask and her eyes widen. Bingo. “Was it a murder-mystery book, Chloe?” I ask just to fuck with her. “Or maybe a cookbook?” I’m completely straight-faced. “Were you looking up a pound cake recipe? Lots of butter in pound cake.” I trail off and rub my jaw. “Or… wait. Was it a filthy romance novel?” I fake stupefaction. “Were they using butter to do dirty sexual things? Chloe Scott, I am shocked. Shocked. You teach the second grade.” I shake my head in mock disappointment. “I can’t believe you would fill your head with such filth.”