Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Glancing at the time, I see that I’m too early. I always run early. Being late is a huge pet peeve of mine, but that doesn’t mean that I can show up at someone’s home thirty minutes ahead of schedule, so I stop in Silver Springs and decide to walk down their quaint little main street.
There’s an adorable ice cream shop called Sundae’s. My friend Juliet has talked about that place so many times before. It’s her favorite, so I’ll have to be sure to stop in and give it a try sometime soon.
I stride past shops and restaurants and start to feel my muscles relax a little. I like the vibe here. It feels welcoming and relaxed, and I’m excited to get to know it better. No one knows me in this town, no one knows who my father was or what he did to us, so I don’t have to endure people whispering about me as I walk by. It’s a fresh start, and it already feels so damn good.
Once I make it back to my car, it’s time to drive to the ranch. I should pull in just two minutes early.
Okay, now I’m getting nervous. I know I can do this job, that’s not the issue. I have always been at the top of my class, I studied hard, and I love what I do.
But I’ll be living on this ranch with a strange man.
I don’t do well with strangers.
Or men.
Maybe I should have listened to my siblings and stayed with one of them for the next year, but there’s something exciting about stepping out of my comfort zone.
“You’ve been living your life on your terms and not letting what happened before rule your every thought, D. Everyone says that Tucker is nice. You’re friends with his sisters. It’s going to be fine.”
It definitely helps that I know the owner’s sisters well, and they’re awesome people. I highly doubt that their brother is a complete dick.
With a deep breath, I pull into the driveway and come to a stop in front of a beautiful two-level farmhouse. It’s white with black shutters and flower boxes that don’t have any flowers in them yet, but it’s still early spring. I can picture colorful petunias in those boxes. There’s an orange cat sleeping on the deep wraparound porch. Tulips are just poking up in the flower beds along the front of the house, not quite in full bloom yet. It looks like a home that’s been well loved and taken care of. I can picture kids playing in the yard and a couple making out in that porch swing.
All the normal things that I never experienced firsthand in my own childhood.
I give myself a moment to get a feel for the place and decide that it’s . . . calm. Peaceful. Gorgeous with the stunning view of the mountains that rise up into the sky behind the house. The mountains never fail to take my breath away.
This will not be a bad place to work for a year.
I climb out of the car and stretch my legs, shake my hair out, and then turn when I hear footsteps in the gravel behind me.
And when I see who it is, all of the blood leaves my face.
No way.
No fucking way.
My hotshot from the diner is here? Jesus, I haven’t seen him in more than five years, but somehow, he’s gotten more handsome. More rugged. More . . . everything.
And he’s walking right for me.
“Well, hey there, Hotshot. Long time no see. I’m looking for the owner.”
He stops just a few feet away, and his deep-green eyes move over my face, as if he’s soaking me in. This could be exciting. I always enjoyed seeing this guy come into the diner, and if he works here, well . . . who knows what might happen?
“And you’ve found him,” he says, taking me by surprise, and with those four words, he tosses cold water on all my hot fantasies.
My hotshot is my boss. Which means there will be nothing happening.
“Tucker,” he says, offering me his hand.
“Uh.” I eye his tanned, strong hand and feel myself take a step back. I don’t trust men. Ever. And it takes me a minute to warm up enough to let one touch me. Only Holden gets that privilege. I’d grown comfortable with Tucker and our flirty interactions at the diner, but that was a while ago now, and a there’s a lot of water under the bridge I’ve traveled since then. “Hi. Sorry, I’m not a toucher.”
He lifts an eyebrow and nods. “No problem. So, your name’s Darby.”
I smile and shove my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “Yeah, it’s Darby. You can call me D, though.”
“I’ll call you Duchess,” he replies, and for some reason, that makes the tension leave my shoulders and sends a little thrill down my spine that I refuse to acknowledge. “Come on, I’ll show you around, and then we’ll get your stuff out of your car.”