Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Invite him over,” a muffled male voice says.
“Yes, I was going to.” Then back into the phone, “My husband and I would love to meet you. Are you here in Liberty right now?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m staying at the hotel in town.”
“How about stopping by this afternoon?” she says. “You could stay for dinner if you’d like.”
Wow. These are really trusting people. I haven’t even told them my name. They probably still keep their doors unlocked at night.
“That’s kind of you,” I say. “I’d love to meet you. My name is Braden. Braden Black.”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“I’m Skye’s boyfriend,” I continue.
Maggie gasps. “Boyfriend?”
Why the hell did I say that? We’re over. I’m the one who ended it.
But she’s still in my heart. Fuck, I flew to Kansas for no reason other than to try to get to know her better by seeing where she grew up, meeting the two people who raised her.
“Yes,” I say. “We’ve been dating.”
“She never mentioned you—” Another gasp. “Braden Black? From Boston? The blue-collar billionaire?”
Another throat clear. I must sound like a chain smoker. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Of course, we are dying to meet you, Mr. Black. Please come over at any time. I assume you have the address.”
“I do. I’ll see you soon.”
Once the call ends, I’m surprised that my heart is racing.
Nerves.
And I don’t get nervous.
Chapter Seven
It takes a half hour to get a taxi to meet me at the hotel and drive me to the Manning home. Once we’re on the rural roads, I can’t help but stare at the green. Kansas is so green compared to Boston. Cornfields line each side of the country road.
The taxi rattles along, the driver silently tracing the route through fields that stretch to the horizon. The sun blazes high.
The scent of earth—dry and wholesome—drifts through the open window, competing with the faint smell of worn leather from the taxi seats.
A weathered barn appears around a bend in the road, its red paint faded and peeling but nonetheless vibrant against the blue sky. The taxi slows as we approach an old iron gate.
The gate is swung wide, and beyond it, a gravel driveway leads up to what I presume is the Manning property. The taxi crunches over the uneven path until we reach the two-story house.
I pay the driver and watch him speed off down the driveway, leaving me in a cloud of dust and silence.
I linger for a moment, taking in the scene before me. A couple of barn cats scurry around, and only a short distance from the house, acres and acres of cornfields.
I look toward the house. The curtains twitch in a front window.
They know I’m here.
I draw in a breath, walk to the front door, and knock.
It opens instantly, and before me stands a lovely woman with a slim figure, light brown hair, with the only sign of age being the few wrinkles around her pretty brown eyes.
Pretty brown eyes that her daughter shares.
“Hello, Mrs. Manning,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Please, call me Maggie.” She holds the door open. “I’ve seen your photo in magazines, but you’re even more handsome in person, Mr. Black.”
“Braden,” I say, walking into the small foyer. “Please.”
“Of course. Braden.” She smiles brightly and motions to a tall man with graying hair. “This is my husband, Steve. Skye’s father.”
I hold out my hand. “It’s a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is ours,” Steve says. “Please come in and make yourself at home. We honestly had no idea Skye was seeing anyone. She’s not always the most forthcoming.”
“I see,” is all I say.
“Have a seat.” Steve gestures to a faded navy-blue brocade armchair. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Maybe just a glass of water.”
“Of course.” Maggie smiles. “Right away.”
Steve sits in a brown leather recliner. Before he can say anything, Maggie returns with a glass of ice water and hands it to me.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Our pleasure.” Maggie takes a seat on the blue couch. “What brings you here, Mist— er, Braden?”
“Business. I have a meeting in Kansas City tomorrow.”
A little white lie. I canceled the meeting with Beauregard, but I feel strange that Skye’s parents might think I came here unannounced specifically to meet them.
“What kind of business?” Steve asks. “Seems you have your hands in everything these days.”
He’s not wrong. “I’m just looking at a company for a possible acquisition,” I say. “Plus, as you may know, we got our start in—”
The latch on the front door clicks.
I turn toward the sound.
And I have to keep my eyebrows from flying off my face.
Chapter Eight
Skye stands in the doorway, holding a small suitcase that drops to the floor with a loud thud and topples onto its side.
“Honey!” Her mom rises and pulls her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”
A few seconds lapse. I don’t offer any explanation for my presence, though she’s looking at me with venom in her expression.