Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
They line the drive. It’s hard to see them under the darkness of the night, but I see enough to know this is a smaller patch of grapes.
I wonder what type of wine these particular grapes make.
If I’m being honest with myself, a sort of excitement comes with the potential of this place and this job that was presented to me. My sperm donor aside, I’m already itching to know everything I can about this vineyard and the wine created here.
It would be fun to get a closer look. Maybe later. Right now, my main priority is to see if I can get a room for the night. Somewhere to buy me time before the inevitable.
It doesn’t take me more than five minutes to walk to the front doors of the hotel, and once inside, I walk straight up to the reception desk.
The beautiful young lady behind the counter could be my age—early twenties—with perfectly straight black hair and deep brown eyes.
“Hi.” I beam so brightly that my cheeks burn.
Mom always says to kill them with kindness, and that you get more with honey than you do with vinegar. Ironic, if you ask me, since she doesn’t take her own advice, but I digress.
Let’s hope this works.
If not, I’ll have to turn tail and go to the dreaded party. This woman holds my destiny in her hands.
Here goes nothing. “I was wondering if you have any rooms available for the night?”
“Tonight?” Her voice rises in question.
This establishment probably doesn’t often get last-minute requests like this.
“Yes, I know it’s last minute, but my other accommodations fell through.” I rummage in my purse to find the credit card my mom gave me a few years back for emergency use only.
This is an emergency, after all. Besides, I’m about to embark on a new job. I’ll pay her back, with interest, proving I’m not as worthless as she’s made me feel lately.
I place the card on the counter and meet the woman’s eyes.
Her brow is furrowed. She looks confused but doesn’t say anything as she types on her computer screen.
Maybe I’m not the first random girl to show up asking for a room at eight o’clock at night.
I bet my story isn’t even the craziest.
“It’s your lucky day. I do have a room. I’ll just need your license and credit card, and you’ll be all set.”
I slide the credit card across the marble, then reach into my purse and wade through my wallet until I find my license. Once I hand it to her, she goes back to typing.
Time seems to stand still as I wait for her to get me sorted.
Eventually, she must because she looks back up at me with a large smile on her face.
“Here you go, room 602.”
I thank her with a smile before taking back my cards and the room key. I walk toward the elevators when I notice the lobby bar. It beckons to me from across the space. The loud chattering of the patrons having fun calls my name.
My luggage is still in the trunk of my car, because I thought I was going to my father’s house after the party, so I have nothing to drop off. Might as well let loose.
Just for tonight.
Escape for a second.
Enjoy the moment and celebrate the new start, no matter how awkward or terrible it could turn out.
I start moving in the direction of the bar. The closer I get, the dimmer the lights become.
It sets the ambience—mysterious and seductive, just the way I like it. It reminds me of a bar you would see in a movie, where anything is possible. It’s the kind of lighting that makes a person loose and free.
When I’m beside the large lucite bar, I slide onto a stool and nod to the bartender. The woman seems to have a resting bitch face. Either that, or she doesn’t like me after a single glance.
Perfect start.
“Tequila, extra chilled,” I say because nothing will do the job better than that.
I peer around the room as I wait, taking in the other patrons.
It’s not like the usual bars I frequent. There are no rowdy college kids here. Nope, the frat boys are replaced by businessmen, or at least that’s what they look like with their gray suits, boring white shirts, and drab ties. These types of guys are trying to escape the monotony of their lives.
A few feet away, a table of women sit, sipping on fruity drinks in pretty glasses, most likely moms gone wild out and about for girls’ night. I lean back in my seat and wait for my drink to arrive.
Once it does, I take a tentative sip. Cautious to confirm it’s chilled to my liking. It’s perfect, which I should’ve expected from a place like this.
From the corner of my eye, something snags my interest. I turn my head just enough to see a man who commands the room’s attention.