Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
“Bruh!” Dan runs forward, eyeing the splintered wood on the floor before he looks up at the shattered railing. “Dude, what happened?”
Sophie flushes. “Nothing, derphead! This house is just old.”
“Yeah, right! You fell down the stairs, didn’t you? Come on, Soph, fess up!” He doesn’t look worried, just impressed. “And you didn’t even break anything? For real? Holy—”
“Daniel, enough,” I bite off.
He flashes me a sheepish smile.
The last thing I want right now is rehashing why Sophie isn’t hurt to my overly curious son, so I nod and ruffle Sophie’s hair until she laughs and pushes at my arm.
“Dad, staaahp.”
“If anything hurts, you tell me, shortstack,” I whisper. “We’ll go get it checked out.”
“Nope. All good,” she insists, frowning until her glasses slip down her nose again. She’s straining to see the back of her arm. “But I think my elbow might bruise.”
I take her arm gently and take a look while Dan paces around.
Nothing too serious, but she’s probably right.
This could’ve been far worse if Miss Hospitality wasn’t around to break her fall.
“So, who’s the lady, Dad?” Daniel wants to know. “She looked scary.”
“She owns the house,” Sophie tells him. “She was pretty mad that Dad’s here with us.”
“She wasn’t expecting us, that’s all,” I say flatly, but I doubt they believe me.
Soph isn’t kidding.
I can’t shake being looked at like a chunky, unwelcome spider she wanted to stomp. Why, who knows, considering the condition of this place.
Maybe she has big plans. A demo job to lay the groundwork for a new resort or a proper rebuild down to the studs.
If there’s one thing Blackthorns do, it’s empire, though I thought her brother inherited the real estate biz.
“What’s gonna happen next?” Sophie whispers excitedly.
“Yeah, that lady must be pissed! Soph broke her railing,” Daniel says matter-of-factly.
“I did not! It was already broken, or it never would’ve crumbled when I pushed on it.”
“I dunno,” Daniel mutters. “But Dad, are you gonna tell her to get lost?”
I smile wryly.
In my kids’ simple world, it’s an easy solution.
I’m always the big man in charge.
They’ve seen me say no to people so often, they assume it’s the default.
“We’re talking. I’m not going to tell her anything,” I say. “Just stay here with our stuff while we get this sorted. Don’t go marching around until I can check this place out. It’s an innocent mistake, guys, and we’ll get it sorted. Obviously,” I add.
“Obviously,” Sophie echoes, still frowning.
I drag a hand over my face.
So much for peace and fucking quiet.
I wonder what will happen if we do leave.
We brought tents as backups—the kids love camping, even if it’s a bigger risk for poor Sophie. Loving the great outdoors with a bum foot is a recipe for disaster when it comes to hiking on uneven terrain.
Still, if she had her way, she’d spend all night wandering around in flip-flops, staring at the skies with her telescope.
It’s not the end of the world if we have to rough it in a nearby park for a night before we head back to New York.
But fuck.
They’ve been looking forward to this place, warts and all.
Honestly, so have I.
After the mess with the company—never mind the divorce, the months of stress—I haven’t taken them on a real fishing trip since they were knee-high.
My boy hasn’t said it, but I know he misses being on the water. Now, knowing we might get kicked to the curb, the disappointment on his face knifes me in the gut.
One more letdown.
One more cruel punt from life, which hasn’t been kind lately.
“It’ll be cool. I bet we go camping,” he tells Sophie, tugging her toward the stairs to sit on the bottom step.
He knows it bothers her to stand for too long, so he sits to give her an excuse to sit as well.
Damn. They’re such good kids.
How do I figure this out when I’ve kicked a nest of bees?
The past few months have been hectic.
Difficult.
This was supposed to be our hard-earned break with the world.
Even that’s slipping through my fingers by the second.
A door closes and the sound of footsteps on wood announces Margot’s return to the kitchen.
I wipe the brooding off my face and go to meet her near the pantry.
One look at the expression on the cold, hard, annoyingly beautiful line of her lips says my fate is sealed.
Boned.
I don’t have the energy for this, especially if I don’t have a leg to stand on legally and this is her property now.
I’ve done enough arguing for one lifetime.
I clear my throat.
“All right, I get it. Nobody needs more trouble. This is your castle and you expected to find it empty. We haven’t even unpacked much yet—just give us an hour and we’ll hit the road. Deal?”
Her pale brows arch.
An oddly elegant gesture, more put together than the suitcases piled haphazardly in the front room suggests.