Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Callie learning self-defense can only be a good thing,” I said.
“Great! Agreed. So why don’t you talk to her about it tonight because we’d have to get her signed up pronto. There are only a few spaces left.”
What? Wait. “Inverness? Isn’t that a two-hour round trip?”
“Yeah, but it’s after school, so I’m happy to take them and wait. I can study in my car until class is over and then bring them back.”
Regan was in business school, preparing to open her own preschool. That she looked after Callie on top of being a full-time mom and student meant a lot to me. Offering to take the kids to class was typical awesome Regan.
But still … “How much are classes?”
“It’s £50 a month.”
My jaw dropped.
Fifty pounds a month!
I know that didn’t sound like much to some folks, but every penny I made counted. Living in a tourist spot in the Scottish Highlands meant the cost of living wasn’t cheap.
“Plus, if she likes it, there’s a uniform and equipment to buy. Oh, and the instructor said there’s a fee every time they advance to the next rank, and there are entrance fees if they want to take part in competitions.”
Panic rose. I wanted Callie to do whatever made her happy, but she’d never had a hobby that cost so much money before. Her paint-by-numbers phase was a lot cheaper. “Um … let me talk to Callie first. Like I said, she didn’t mention it, so I want to make sure she really wants to attend the classes before we decide anything.”
“Of course. We’ll talk when you pick her up tonight.”
I was still worrying about how I’d afford to send Callie to tae kwon do lessons two hours later as I cleaned Byron Hoffman’s room. Hoffman was the youngest son of Henry Hoffman, owner of one of the largest TV and film production companies in the world. He’d only been granted membership and arrived on the estate two weeks ago. I had no idea who he was, but Mrs. Hutchinson liked to point out all the members and give me a rundown on their background.
Last week, I was dumping used towels from another guest’s room into my cart outside the door when I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. When I turned around, Byron Hoffman was strolling down the hallway, his eyes glued to my ass. Catching him in the act, he’d taken his time looking me in the eye. When he did, he winked at me like he was God’s gift to mankind.
I looked away, but when I glanced up, he’d turned around so he was walking backward, staring at me in a lascivious way that made my hackles rise.
He was also a total slob. His room was always a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere, food crumbs in places that made no sense … but the worst part was his sheets. Don’t get me wrong, I’d had to pretend like I hadn’t seen “dirty” sheets many a time in the year I’d been working at Ardnoch. However, Hoffman almost always had dirty sheets, and there was a part of me that wondered if the sick bastard was doing it deliberately.
Sometimes, I really hated my job.
However, there was also satisfaction in looking around the beautifully appointed room and seeing it returned to rights. Replacing shampoo bottles with new, I grabbed the old and walked toward the door to let myself out. Finishing up Hoffman’s room meant I was almost done for the day. And I was excited to see Callie and find out how the first day of school had gone. I was also hoping she’d contradict Regan and tell me she didn’t want to go to tae kwon do. Totally selfish, yes, but I really didn’t know how I could afford it.
Mind elsewhere, I didn’t even see him when I stepped out of the room toward my waiting housekeeping cart. But as I dumped the empty bottles into it, I felt the abrupt hard heat of a male body at my back, and my heart lurched into my throat.
I tried to turn, but firm hands on my hips stopped me.
“Working hard?” a male voice asked huskily in my ear.
Fear shivered through me, but I looked down the corridor, reminding myself we were out in the open, and there were security cameras all around the castle.
I glanced over my shoulder and, sure enough, it was Hoffman who had me pinned to my cart. “Just finishing up, Mr. Hoffman. Have a good day.” I moved to push away with the cart, and his grip tightened.
Pulse racing, I opened my mouth to protest when two actors appeared at the end of the hallway. Hoffman released my hips, and I hurried away. The women, whose famous faces had graced the covers of magazines, barely even noticed me as I rushed past them and into the service elevator at the end of the hall. I didn’t look up.