Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“What about being a cop? You’re damn good at that,” I reminded him.
“Maybe,” he said. “I hadn’t really thought of it that way. But you know flavor and ingredients. You know beer in a way that Matthew doesn’t and never will. And yeah, I think he was jealous. He knew he could teach you, but you couldn’t really teach him. I think some of his wanting to put you in your place was about taking over the brewery, sure, but the rest of it? That was just old-fashioned jealousy. He wants to be what you are, and he never will be.”
I blinked up at West, trying on this new view of Matthew. I liked it. “Well, I wish he hadn’t tried to set me on fire to get even,” I said.
“Yeah, me too,” West said, doing up the buttons on his shirt. “So does Bob.”
“Poor Bob,” I sighed. I’d already made some progress throwing together the benefit. His friends would help him get back on his feet, but he hadn’t deserved to be caught in the middle.
I pulled my dress from the hanger, trying to think about anything but those unopened bottles I’d brought home. Part of me wanted to dash down the stairs—wet hair and no shoes—and pop one open. Just one, so I’d know. If it was awful, I could find out by myself without everybody watching.
No. This was my family. They loved me. If it was awful, we’d all laugh about it together. And if Aunt Ophelia, or God forbid Harvey or Edgar, caught me downstairs half-dressed with wet hair all over the place, I’d get a parental-style lecture, despite the fact that I was a full-grown adult.
Not worth it, I decided.
I still wasn’t blow-drying my hair, but I took a minute to swipe on mascara and a little bit of gloss, then put on the sapphire earrings that had been my mother’s and the diamond necklace Ford had given me when I turned twenty-one. There. That was as dressed up as I was going to get.
I slid on my heels, wondering as they pinched my toes how long I’d have to keep them on, and turned to see West in gray dress pants and a blue button-down shirt, his tie patterned with tiny yellow rubber duckies. His hair was a little wet, slightly rumpled, and for more than a second, all I wanted was to strip his dress clothes off and have my way with him again.
“You clean up nice, Chief.”
“So do you.” His eyes went hot as he scanned me from the tip of my black heels, past the earrings, to the top of my head. “Now that’s a hell of a dress,” he said, doing another slow scan back down.
“Parker’s,” I said. “When she was cleaning out her closet, she and Sterling decided this one was for me.”
“I agree with their taste,” he said, slowly spinning me around. “I don’t know how you manage to take a perfectly acceptable dress and make it look sexy as hell, but you do.”
I had to admit West wasn’t wrong. I caught sight of myself in the mirror as his compliment rippled through me. Just above the knee, with a flowing skirt and a halter neck that hinted at but showed zero cleavage, the dress couldn’t have been more appropriate for a family dinner, and yet—I looked pretty damn good.
My eyes snagged on the bandage on my arm. “Should I put on a cardigan or something?” I asked, the strip of white incongruous against the elegant black dress.
“Not unless you’re cold,” West said. “You look gorgeous, bandage or no bandage.” He handed me two brown pills. “Ibuprofen. You have to stay ahead of the pain. Once you start moving around, it’s going to hurt.”
I took them with the bottle of water he handed me. My phone beeped with a text. Savannah.
West’s parents are here. You guys coming down?
Knowing Savannah, she was probably everywhere at once today, though officially all of the staff had the day off. Today, she wasn’t the housekeeper, she was a Sawyer and Finn’s wife, and as determined as Finn to put on a hell of a Thanksgiving. We had a full house. Aunt Ophelia and Nash’s mom, Claudia, had come back to Sawyers Bend to celebrate. West’s parents were here, along with Harvey and Edgar. Miss Martha, Savannah’s mother, would be there, probably trying to help. You could turn the housekeeper into family, but you couldn’t stop her from fussing—I’d learned that well enough over the past few years.
We made our way down the front stairs to find the hall empty. The sound of voices came from our left, where Savannah had transformed the family gathering room, usually dominated by a huge sectional and big TV, into its original intended purpose. She’d scattered small tables here and there with trays of snacks and small bites. There was a bar set up on one side of the room, and beside it, a galvanized steel tub stood filled with ice and the bottles of beer I’d brought from Sawyers Bend Brewing.