Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
They all nod. “And she’s got you all worked up?”
“I’m not worked up.”
“Right.” Mark laughs.
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
“You need me to put you on another job? Maybe have you hang out at the shop with Mara. I’m sure there are things for you to do.”
“Hey, now, if anyone should get to hang out with my wife, it’s me,” Seth intervenes.
“You think I’m crazy? Putting any of us with our wives is a mistake if I want any work to get done.” The four of them nod, knowing damn well Ridge is right.
“No. I’m fine. I’m over it.”
“Sure, you are,” Mark says, shaking his head.
“I’m good. Let’s get this over with. The faster we get this job finished, the sooner I’m out of here.”
“Kent, you do realize we’re going to be here for several weeks, right?” Ridge asks.
“The longer we stand out here cackling like a bunch of hens, the longer it’s going to take.” I stalk off toward the master bedroom, all the while hoping I see her on the way. The guys don’t push me for more; instead, they follow me down that hall, and we get to work.
I can’t believe she acted like she didn’t know me. After all the time we spent together. I’ve thought about how things would go if I ever ran into her again. This was not what I envisioned for our reunion. I didn’t expect her to be pining over me, but damn, pretending she doesn’t know me, that’s harsh. This is going to be a long-ass job. The sooner we get out of there, the better. Even as I think the words, I’m also trying to decide how I can get her alone. How I can convince her to talk to me. Regardless of how she feels about me now, I need to apologize for how I acted back then. She also needs to know what she meant to me. What she still means to me. Something tells me none of that is going to go as easy as I had anticipated.
Chapter 3
Delaney
I rush down the hall to my bedroom and slam the door. I hate it when this happens. You would think that by now I’d be used to it—running into people from my past. As I rest my back against the door, I focus on taking in slow, even breaths. I hear their deep voices carry up the stairs and I resolve to hang out here in my room the rest of the day. It’s not like I have anything pressing to do. Mom won’t be here until the end of the week. I still can’t seem to comprehend why she hates this place. This house is gorgeous, and it’s huge. So much bigger than our home back in California. Then again, a house this size in Cali would be a considerable amount of money. We do well, but not that well. My dad was an architect, just like my grandfather.
My grandad actually designed and built this house on his own. When he passed, we moved here from a few towns over. Now, with Dad gone, Mom wants me to sell it. Maybe with the renovations, I can convince her that keeping it is a good idea. Then again, I’m an adult, and I don’t need her permission. When I left California, I was in the mindset that selling it, even though Grandad built it, would be the best bet. Our life was hundreds of miles away. However, the more time I spend here, the more that just doesn’t feel right to me.
Having caught my breath, I move to the bed and stare up at the ceiling. I want to stay holed up in here all day, but I know I can’t do that. I can’t hide from the gorgeous man covered in ink. I need to face him. He’s hauntingly familiar, so much so that I see him in my dreams.
Literally.
I’ve dreamed about him many times over the years. I don’t know what that means exactly, but with the way those dark eyes of his were staring at me, the look of disbelief on his face, I know for certain it’s only a matter of time before I find out.
I will face him eventually. For now, I’m going to finish this book I’m reading. It’s a new one from Evan Grace, and I have to know what happens. Grabbing my Kindle from the nightstand, I immerse myself into another world. Reading is my escape from life, from reality. When life gets blurry or messy, I can always depend on my favorite authors to give me a few hours of reprieve from reality.
Two hours pass, and I have a smile on my face. The ending was perfect. As I close my Kindle, my stomach growls loudly, reminding me I didn’t eat this morning. Steeling my resolve, it’s time to head downstairs. If I’m lucky, I won’t run into them. Quietly, I open the bedroom door and peer both ways down the hall. I hear them working downstairs, but it’s hard to tell which room they’re in. Slowly, I take one step at a time. As I grow closer, I hear they’re in the master bedroom, which just so happens to be the only downstairs bedroom. Perfect.