Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Enough.” The voice was deep, full of power, and the command shocked through those gathered.
Tristan walked down the hall, just finishing off a breakfast sandwich. He crumpled the foil in his hand as his glowing gaze traced over Patty and then Mr. Tom. “I will handle Jessie’s schedule,” he finally said. “Mr. Tom, you already have plenty of very important tasks as it concerns the miss. If all your time is spent managing a diary, we’ll have to bring in someone else to see to her day-to-day, like cooking and laundering and cleaning. Someone else will need to handle her.”
Mr. Tom pulled his hand away from shoving Patty and brought himself up to his full height. “There is no need to go into such hysterics, Tristan. We all know that I am the most capable person in this house when it comes to looking after the miss.”
“Exactly,” Tristan said without skipping a beat. “We wouldn’t want to have to replace you.” He stopped at my side, darkness swirling around him. His glowing gaze bored into Edgar. “You’re already on the schedule for today. Give that hat back to the person you have stashed in your cottage, free them, and make sure your flowers are seen to until Jessie can visit you.”
“Yes, sire. Of course, sire.” Edgar bowed, dropped the hat, and spun toward the door…only, it didn’t open when he got there. Nor did he lift his hand to open it himself. He slammed into the hard surface, bounced back, and shrieked. A glance over his shoulder told him Tristan and his glowing eyes were still pointed his way, and so he spun again and then raced down the hallway toward the back door.
“Kind of extreme,” I murmured.
An image of a woman holding her stomach and laughing magically appeared in the wood on the landing.
Not funny, I told Ivy House.
Her wheeze of laughter was the reply.
Tristan barely spared the dropped hat or dashing vampire a glance. He held his hand out for Mr. Tom. “I’ll take the diary, if you please.”
“It seems like you understand what’s important here. Unlike that meddling woman loitering in the doorway of the sitting room.” Mr. Tom put his nose in the air and surrendered the diary.
“I’d like a coffee made in the French press, please, Mr. Tom,” Tristan said. “And one for Jessie.”
“Coming right up!” Mr. Tom strode down the hall without another glance at Patty.
Tristan’s stern demeanor melted into a smile and sparkling eyes. “Patty, lovely to see you.” His charm was off the charts. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping into the sitting room for another moment, I need to look over the day’s events and confer with Jessie. We’re already behind schedule and need to come up with a plan of attack.”
Patty blushed. “I would be glad to. Good for you for helping her! And just let me say, you’ve been a wonderful addition to this team. Everything runs so smoothly with you here!”
“Thank you so much, Patty.” He spared her a moment of attention before turning to me. “Now, Jessie, let’s just step into this other sitting room, shall we?”
I watched as Patty disappeared through the doorway before following him across the hall.
“Privacy, please,” he murmured.
I wrapped us in a soundproof spell, looking at him like I’d never seen him before.
He noticed and grinned. “I’ve had a lot of experience with hardheaded gargoyles and garhettes. Sorry about taking over in there, but it seemed like you needed a helping hand.”
“No, don’t apologize. You handled that much better than I could’ve. You got Mr. Tom off my back without hurting his feelings and Edgar out of here without him asking to be retired. Where have you been until now?”
His mood darkened. “Mistaking where you needed me most.”
Our training wasn’t going well. He couldn’t seem to get in tune with me, and I didn’t know enough about his flight plans to figure out where I should be and when.
I put my hand on his arm in support. “We’ll get it—”
He brought that hand up to cough, just once, before shifting his weight and looking down at the diary. He’d effectively removed my touch.
I clasped my hands in front of me. “Sorry.”
“I’m not worried about the touch, and neither is Alpha Steele,” he said, turning a page. “I prefer it, actually. Gargoyles in general do. But you and I both need to practice shifter rules if we want to seem natural in the moment. The packs will notice.”
“Right. Definitely.”
He flicked another page. “Mr. Tom wrote down your heart’s desires.”
“What?” I inched forward to see, putting my hands behind my back.
He chuckled. “That’s not really advertising natural.”
I pushed my hands to my sides. “None of this is exactly natural for me.”
“Yes, I’ve realized that.” He flipped to the most recent page, and his finger traced down the lines before he snapped the diary closed and handed it over to me. “One of your heart’s desires is a house in a meadow with a white picket fence and a window box with an apple pie sitting on it.”