Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Met on my trail,” I remind her, taking a few steps toward Tillie and the man. “Just as you’re on my property now.”
My words are biting and hard, and one would say completely unneighborly. She takes offense, or at least I assume by the thinning of those full lips into a flat line of disdain. “Our property,” she corrects me.
I frown. “Excuse me?”
“This area is an easement that we share for a common driveway.”
I scoff, shaking my head and crossing my arms over my chest. “Sorry, going to have to disagree with you.” I glance at the man with the clipboard and also notice he’s got a pack of orange ties clipped to his belt. Behind him, I see where several have been tied around various trees. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Cutting down trees to build a driveway,” she replies, moving out of the tree line and stepping onto my lawn. Which is indeed trespassing, but I don’t point that out.
“Like fuck you are,” I snarl. “Those are my trees.”
“Going to have to disagree with you,” she retorts, tossing my exact words back at me.
“Um… Ms. Marshall,” the man interrupts, looking distinctly uncomfortable, “I’ve got a good idea of what you want. We can finish up plans once you iron things out with this gentleman.”
“There’s nothing to iron out,” she snaps, and then takes a deep breath. Releasing it, she says, “I’m sorry, John. I’ll handle this little hiccup, and we can talk more about the project after. How about I call you?”
“That sounds fine,” he says, tipping his head to me before pivoting and melting back into the forest.
“Look, lady. I—”
“Tilden,” she says.
My eyebrows pull inward and irritation flushes through me. “What?”
“My name is Tilden. Tillie to my friends, but you don’t qualify. So, it’s Tilden or Ms. Marshall, but it’s not lady. That’s rude.”
“Do I seem like the type who’s concerned with being rude?”
She shakes her head. “No. On the contrary, you’re pretty much a jerk, but the fact of the matter is this strip of land that exists between our property lines is an easement that grants either of us the right to build a shared driveway out to the main road.”
“Impossible,” I huff as I sweep an arm out. “I bought this property last week, and the attorney never mentioned anything about it.”
Although admittedly, I wasn’t listening closely to Harlow when she was going over the documents.
“I suggest you go look at your paperwork again. I bought my property a few months ago, and I’m quite positive there’s an easement there because, unlike your attorney, my attorney made sure there was one as it was a prerequisite to my purchase.”
“What the hell do you need a driveway for? Don’t you already have one to your house? I assume you do.”
“Of course,” she replies as she uses a hand to tuck hair behind her ear. She’s wearing it loose, and it’s not just wavy as I had originally thought when it was braided but downright curly. She’s wearing a pair of formfitting jeans and a tank top, and Christ, she’s got a body made to be sunk into.
I shake my head to dispel those thoughts and try to keep my tone calm. “If you have a driveway, why do you need another?”
“Because I’m building an art studio on the far end of my property, and the driveway entrance to it will be here.” She sweeps her arms out to indicate the swath of trees she’d just been traversing.
I cock an eyebrow. “An art studio?”
“Yes, a place where art is created.”
Rolling my eyes, I growl at her. “I know what it is. I just don’t know why you need a driveway to get to it if it’s on your property with an existing driveway.”
She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Um… because it’s not anywhere near my existing driveway, and this studio is a business. I don’t want customers parking in my yard or walking through my woods. I want it separate from my home.”
“So, the answer is to cut down my trees—”
“Our trees—”
“—so I have to deal with seeing and hearing traffic come in and out, and see your art studio and customers from my yard? I don’t think so, lady.”
“Tilden.”
“Tillie to your friends,” I sneer, taking three steps to bring myself toe to toe with her. “But I’m not your friend, and I’m telling you, I won’t agree to this, so you’d better figure out some other way to make this work.”
“You don’t have a say in this, Coen whatever your last name is.” She tips her head back to look up at me, hands on her hips, and the sunlight makes her light brown eyes turn almost golden. “Those trees are coming down whether you like it or not.”
“Marshall, right?” I ask.
She frowns, looking perplexed. “Are you confirming my last name?”