Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
The thought of him wearing a dress shirt and suit jacket on top of pajamas painted him in a picture I didn’t want in my brain. His question was hypothetical so I didn’t say anything else. I also didn’t care what his wardrobe entailed, but he should own jeans. Grabbing two sugar cubes into my hand from my pocket, I paused when Callum touched my elbow.
“Tell me something,” he said, rubbing his thumb across my skin. “Is your attitude because you don’t like me personally? Or are you worried I’ll see some crack in the foundation that you’re not prepared for me to fill?”
“If I had any cracks that needed filling, I’m certain you’d be the last man on earth I’d call.”
Glimmer nickered. I told myself it was because of my perfect comeback and not the post-brush treat routine we’d established. She was waiting for her sugar, obviously, but it broke the tension.
“Is that so?” He let go of my elbow.
The tension returned tenfold. Another question that didn’t warrant a response. Not that I had anything good to say. My attitude toward him left much to be desired, even though I knew that I wasn’t ready to cave.
Callum rubbed a hand over his beard. It was well-trimmed and polished like the rest of him, not that I was staring. Definitely not because I was wondering what it would feel like with my fingers buried in it while we kissed. I fed Glimmer the sugar cubes then brushed off my hands. Callum stepped backward toward the opening of the stall as if he knew I wasn’t going to engage with him anymore.
“My offer to teach you a lesson stands, short-stack. Tossing your attitude in my direction is not likely going to end the way you think it will.”
He pivoted on his heels, stalking out of the enclosure like he hadn’t turned my entire day on its axis. I was mortified from the way my body was behaving. The sass. The attitude. Drenching his clothes and wrecking his outfit! What was my problem? I hated that he had the last word.
Instead of following him and giving him another piece of my mind, I clucked my tongue at Glimmer.
“Hrumph. You like him. Don’t pretend you don’t. You think my disdain is ill-placed. You don’t know him like I know him,” I whispered to my sweet mare. “He’s not even that handsome.”
But my assessment wasn’t entirely fair. I had known him when we were growing up in Brighton Creek. We hadn’t been friends exactly, but we ‘d hung out at the ranch. We’d spent our days and evenings together for years. I’d harbored a crush on him, not that I’d ever voiced it out loud. Maybe that’s all this was, leftover unrequited fantasies.
My childhood diaries held scenarios of Nana leaving Violet Meadows to us. But in those pages, my secret notes held dreams of a girl who’d dreamt of riding into the fields with her cowboy husband and not some smooth-talking executive in a suit.
His threat lingered along with the fading scent of his cologne. A lesson in respect while bent over a hay bale. If I wasn’t so aroused by the mental image, I’d have been more annoyed.
Chapter Two
Callum
Early morning light filtered in through the curtains above the sink. It was peaceful standing in Nana’s kitchen, the sort of quiet that almost opened up the grief I’d been pushing down into my gut. Quinn had every right to be annoyed that I was here on what she considered her turf. I hadn’t been around much, something I regretted deeply.
Brewing coffee, I leaned back against the counter. Nana had practically raised me along with my grandfather, a huge bear of a man we’d called Tuts. Why we’d called him that was a lost memory, but I missed them both terribly.
The back door opened, jarring me out of my thoughts.
Quinn cooed to one of the many house cats who had inevitably greeted her in the mudroom. I listened to the soft cadence of her voice as she moved around. I’d seen a pair of bunny slippers resting on a mat near the doorway, but hadn’t connected the dots.
She strolled into the kitchen a few minutes later as if she belonged, wrapped in a cardigan full of holes, her hair in a messy braid. Those same adorable bunny slippers peeked out from her cotton pajama pants and she skidded to a halt.
“Morning,” I said, pouring a mug of coffee for myself then grabbing another cup from the nearby cabinet. “Freshly made. You must have smelled it across the way.”
“Oh! Oh… I didn’t… I didn’t even think. This is your house now,” she said clearly flustered. “There’s no kitchen in my cottage; I always come here. Um, do you want me to leave?”
Did I want her to leave? I knew these weren’t the best of circumstances, but that was the last thing I wanted. “No, please. Sit. Tell me your routines. Now isn’t the time to rearrange them unless they really need to be adjusted.”