Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
I exhale heavily, then try to push past my own roadblocks, since he’s clearly trying. “And yes, I do want everything to be just so. But I’m trying to ease up.”
“You mentioned that the other day.”
I lower my face. “I’m not doing a good job.”
“You’re hard on yourself. You’re doing fine. Also, I don’t think sickness is a weakness, Remy.”
I close my eyes for a second. He’s being so nice to me even when I’m not sure I deserve it. I really need to get the focus off me. I open my eyes. “So we’re going to your ranch right now to drop off Thor? Do you want me to stay in the car?” I ask gently, since that might be easier for him.
His hands curl tight around the wheel. “You can come in.” He hesitates then adds, “My dad doesn’t go outside.”
“I know,” I say softly. “Clem mentioned he has agoraphobia. How has that been going?”
Lake sighs, then clenches his jaw. “I really don’t know. Not well, I guess,” he says, then blows out another breath. “But he wants to meet you. Since he thinks…”
My heart squeezes, and I hate that we’re probably going to disappoint his father too. “Will he be sad when this ends?”
Lake shrugs, but that sure feels like a yes.
* * *
The car bumps its way over a long, winding gravel driveway till we round a final curve and on the other side of a green hill, a sprawling property emerges with a rustic sign that reads Big Steps Ranch and Bird Sanctuary in a cutout style.
In the distance, under the blue sky, a handful of people work with horses and kids in a ring, and there’s a huge home too—a big white farmhouse, then acres and acres of land. It’s peaceful here, bucolic even with the warm sun, the bright skies, and the meadows stretching out to a stream and beyond.
“I’ve never been here before,” I say as I step out of the car, quickly adding, “I mean, there was no reason. Clem tends to stay at her place.”
“She does. It’s good for her there,” he says, and that sounds like it means something but it’s probably a family thing I don’t need to know about.
After Lake unclips Thor from the car seat, he sets him down on the ground, and I beam. His cat’s still wearing the harness, and Lake’s holding his leash. “It’s like the picture you took,” I say, unable to contain my glee. “You two are so cute.”
That’s fine to say. It’s not flirty. It’s just reality.
Lake shoots me a searing look. “Not cute.”
But he’s wrong. Lake’s a walking ad for cat daddy right now—the big, burly hockey player heading up the steps with his trained cat.
I wish I were enjoying this moment for real. That he was mine. But I do my best to push all my wishes and wants out of my mind. The time isn’t right. There’s too much at stake.
I head inside, leaving my wishes behind. The house is light and bright, with shiny, clean wood floors and a rustic feel, but with a touch of a modern look. I don’t know why—maybe because I know his dad doesn’t leave—I was expecting a musty place.
It’s the opposite. Fresh and sunny, and it smells like oranges and home.
Nerves bounce in my chest as Lake calls out, “Thor’s home. Are you decent?”
“Of course I am,” a voice calls from the living room, and when we enter, an older man stands and strides toward us. He looks a lot like Lake, but with a weathered face, graying hair, and clever blue eyes. There’s a library book on the table. A Damon Cross.
“You must be the lady my son’s so crazy about.”
My pulse jumps up and down.
“Dad,” Lake seethes.
“Oh hush,” his father says, as he reaches me and offers a hand for shaking.
I shake back but inside my mind pings with questions. Did Lake tell him he felt that way? Or is his dad just giving him a hard time? Or is this his dad’s best guess?
“So nice to meet you, Mr. Axelrod,” I say.
“Call me Nicholas.”
“Nicholas,” I say with a smile, setting my questions aside. They’re not important anyway. “Your son clearly got his good looks and charm from you.”
He waves a hand, then says to Lake, “She’s a keeper.”
Lake looks away, inscrutable once more.
His father’s not though. The man is clearly happy to see his son, and, I surmise, me. “Your place is beautiful. The horses are majestic. I can’t wait to check out the birds someday. I hear there’s an owl box,” I say.
He strokes his chin. “I wonder if there’s a baby owl yet.”
“Did you know an owl’s eyes make up five percent of their body weight?”
“I did not know that,” he says, then tilts his head. “You an owl expert?”