Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Closing my office door, I headed back to the front. Montana was scrunching her nose and scowling at the screen. The corners of my mouth tugged up as I made my way over to the counter. She hadn’t looked up and noticed me yet, and I was enjoying watching her.
I shouldn’t be, but I had eyes. There was no other choice.
When she finally looked up from the screen and saw me, the immediate softening in her expression sent a wave of pleasure through me.
That’s bad, Than. Real bad. You can’t react like this to her.
“How do you look in a hard hat?” I asked her.
She did the scrunchy-nose thing again, which only made me smile harder.
“Uh, I honestly don’t know,” she replied.
I shrugged. “Well, don’t worry if you can’t pull it off. Not everyone can make a hard hat sexy.”
She was grinning now. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely. You’ll see more than a few ugly fuckers in hard hats on the tour. You ready?”
Her eyes widened with excitement, and she nodded, then stood up. “Yes.” The relief in her tone at getting away from the screen was obvious.
“You got something to tie your hair back?” I asked.
“In the truck. I left my purse in there accidentally and didn’t realize it until later.”
I nodded toward the door. “I’ll unlock it, and you can go grab it on our way over to the distillery.”
She looked back at her things. “Is it okay if I leave this all here?”
“Yep. No one will touch it,” I assured her.
Beaming, she hurried around the counter, and I was unable to take my eyes off her. It was getting harder to keep my distance from her with every passing day.
“What all are we going to see?” she asked as I opened the door and held it for her.
“We’ve got a grain delivery from a local farmer about to happen, so we can start there and then move to the mash cookers and watch that from a distance. Then we will see the fermentation process and distillation,” I explained. “There are some loud areas, so I can give you earplugs if you’d like.”
I pulled the truck key from my pocket and unlocked the doors with a click. “Go grab your hair tie, and then I’ll get you suited up.”
She jogged out toward the truck, and I enjoyed the view. I should probably stop if I didn’t want to tour the distillery with a hard-on. Jerking my eyes off her, I stared at the building and tried to put her back in that box I’d kept her in. The no-touch, off-limits one that she’d managed to start easing out of.
Linc had set the ground rules, but if this was going to be for three months—and be unlike what I’d thought in the beginning, when I was sure I’d find shit out on her—then I needed him to lift the ban. Because we were on our sixth day of this, and I was teetering on the edge of doing something stupid.
I heard the familiar sounds of the back door rolling open on the distillery and the shouts from the workers who would handle the grain delivery. The truck must be pulling up. I turned to look and see what was taking Montana so long. She stood with the door open, but wasn’t moving. I squinted against the sun and shaded my eyes to see if I could tell what she was doing, but all I could see was her staring down at something.
“Grain is here, Six!” I called out. When she didn’t lift her head and acknowledge me, I tried calling her name. “Montana!” Still, I got no response.
What the hell was she doing?
I began walking her way, and the closer I got, the more concerned I became. She was just standing there like she was in some kind of trance. She’d gone to get a hair tie. What the hell could have happened to cause her to freeze and zone out?
“You good?” I asked as I neared her, but nothing. No movement.
Closing the distance with longer strides, I made it to her and touched her shoulder to get her attention.
She was trembling. Was there a snake, and I didn’t see it? I checked at her feet, but saw nothing.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked, my frustration growing, along with my worry. Keeping my hand on her, I squeezed her shoulder gently. “You gotta snap out of this, Six. You’re starting to scare me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She finally lifted her head, and I could see what she was holding once her long, dark tresses weren’t hiding it. There was some kind of folded blue paper in her hand. Was that a heart? Had something of her mother’s been in her purse and she’d forgotten about it? I knew losing someone could cause delayed trauma.