Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Wow, this is really beautiful,” Shel says from my side, and I smile at the windshield.
“It’s not so creepy anymore, is it?”
“Definitely not creepy anymore. It looks like a postcard,” she says, leaning forward to look out the window. The area is beautiful and sits right off the water. The old cannery in the back is still standing strong, but is now used for boat storage and fish cleaning. The bunkhouses, which were once dilapidated, have been remodeled for the workers or guest overflow. A red cookhouse sits in the middle of the large ten-acre area, with the lodge as the focal point.
“Stan did a lot of work out here and is always adding on more rooms, since he’s booked out all summer with fishermen, groups, and guided tours, and then most of the winter with heli-skiers.
“I can see why,” she mutters, as I pull into a spot and put my truck in park.
Turning toward her, I notice her hands are wrapped tightly around her bag, so tight that her knuckles have gone white. “It’ll be okay.” I reach over, forcing her to release her hands. “You’re just talking. If you don’t like her, we’ll find someone you do like.”
“Thank you for doing this,” she says quietly, and I nod then look toward the building.
“Go on in. I’ll wait for you out here,” I assure, and her body relaxes even more. I want to go with her and be there for support if she needs me, but I know that isn’t what she wants. Every time her ex has been brought up, she’s closed down. I know that has more to do with me than anything else, and I don’t want her to keep anything from Mandy when they’re talking.
“Thank you.” She closes her eyes briefly then sends a small smile my way before opening the door and hopping out. Pausing when the door is halfway closed, she sticks her head in, looks up at me, and grins. “Um, who do I ask for?”
Chuckling, I mutter, “Just ask for Mandy at the front. They’ll point you in the right direction.
“Mandy, got it.” She sends one more smile up at me then slams the door closed. Watching her walk, my eyes drop to her ass as she moves up the stairs into the lodge, and I clench my fist on the steering wheel.
“Fuck,” I mutter into the empty cab. I will definitely be moving us forward.
Hanging up the phone when Shel walks out of the lodge not even twenty minutes later, I turn on the truck. “How did it go?” I ask, as she opens the door, climbs in, and tucks her bag in front of her on her lap.
“Okay,” she says, reaching back and putting on her seatbelt.
“Just okay?” I ask, trying to read her tone while backing out of the spot.
“I really like her,” she sighs. “I just don’t know if I can afford her. Even her monthly payments would be a little steep for me right now, and I just started my job.”
“Are you getting help from Hunter’s dad?” I question, pulling out onto the main road that will lead us back into town.
“Yeah, some. But we also worked that out ourselves,” she says quietly, and I know that can’t be good.
“How much is he giving you?”
She fiddles with her purse not looking at me. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Shel, how much is he giving you a month?”
“Five hundred,” she whispers, and my hands clench into fists.
“What?” I growl, while swinging my head to look at her.
“It’s always been okay,” she says quickly. “He pays for anything extra Hunter needs, and until now, I didn’t want or need his money.”
“Five hundred dollars a month is nothing. Shit, Steven could spend that on one trip to the grocery store.”
“It was working for us,” she cries, and I shake my head.
“What does he do?”
“Who?”
“Your ex. What does he do? How does he make a living?”
“He’s a lawyer,” she mutters, and I nod. It’s not a surprising piece of information. The clothes she has on now—even though they’re somewhat casual—look expensive, and I know the bag in her lap cost her at least a grand, if not more, just from the monogram print covering it.
“Does he work for free?”
“No,” she snaps.
“I’m sorry to say this, baby, but your ex is a dick. Even if you agreed to five hundred a month from him, he should have given you more without you even having to ask for it.”
“I didn’t want more,” she whispers.
“Did you mess around on him?” I question, and her angry response is immediate.
“No, of course not.”
“Then what?” I growl, and she hisses, “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” I mutter back instantly.
“We just wanted different things.” She says, and my hands fist on the steering wheel. I hate the pain I hear in her voice when she talks about him. “I don’t want him to be right. I don’t want him to know I can’t make it on my own, or that I do need him to help me.”