Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Alright,” Seeley said, nodding, then following Triss and Alaric inside, out of the late morning heat.
It was extra hot with all the fucking gauze and elastic bandages. But I wasn’t going to be missing out on the chance to be alone with Maeve if I had it.
“I’m sure it’s all going to make it,” I assured her as her face slipped into a permanent frown as she started to water the plants and bushes.
“I know it’s probably silly,” she said, shaking her head.
“What? Worrying about something you’ve clearly put a lot of work into? No, babe. That’s not silly.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving me a small smile over her shoulder. “I feel like I owe it to my grandfather to keep his garden going. And adding to it. He would be proud to see his love of it going to the next generation.”
“You take after him, huh?” I asked. “Taking off to go live on a cruise boat sounds more like Triss, so I figure she takes more after your grandmother.”
“And our mom,” she agreed. “Our mom was wild and crazy and very… magnetic. Triss got all of that. And I guess my grandfather was the grounding presence my Gram needed. And my father was the same for my mother. And I’m that for Triss.”
“What were your father and grandfather like then?” I asked.
“Quiet. Very into their hobbies. For my grandfather, that was mostly the garden. For my father, it was books. And, I mean, they were both completely obsessed with their wives,” she said.
I wondered if she was drawing parallels. I was the wild, adrenaline-seeking, outlaw biker. She, the bookish, quiet, garden-loving sort.
Opposites attracting and all that.
I wondered, though, if maybe some of Maeve’s reservations had more to do with it being easier to exist in Triss’s shadow, than to try to step out from behind it and see what it was like to feel the sun on her face for a change.
“You can go inside,” Maeve said a while later, when she moved from the front garden to the expansive one in the back of the property. “It’s disgusting out here,” she said, reaching up to use the back of her arm to wipe the sweat from her brow.
“It’s fine,” I assured her. And, oddly, it was. I was standing a few yards away under the relative shade of the covered porch, watching as she moved around, watering the peonies and hibiscus, and a shitton of other colorful flowers I didn’t know the names of.
“What?” Maeve asked when she glanced back at me, taking in whatever look was on my face right then.
“This house is kind of perfect,” I declared, realizing just how much it felt that way. The care and attention to the yard, the vintage feel of the inside. It was cozy. The kind of place meant for putting down roots.
“Right?” she asked, giving me a pleased smile. “Triss always wants to do little updates. But I’m partial to it just as it is. I was going—“ she started, turning the hose without looking at what she was doing, and hitting a patch of dirt that, once the water hit it, became mud that splashed back at her, splattering her legs and the bottom of her shirt. “Ugh, damnit.”
“We probably still have ten minutes or so before Booker gets here,” I told her as she switched off the spigot. “You can go clean up.”
“Oh, good,” she said, rushing past me, then into the house.
I wanted to follow her.
But it would be too obvious.
Luckily for me, Triss was clearly picking up on the vibe between us, because she handed me a big glass of iced tea, and told me to bring it to Maeve.
“It’s not good for her to get dehydrated out there,” she added for emphasis, but there was no mistaking the devilish light in her eyes.
I wasn’t about to object to an excuse to go into Maeve’s room. Which I did after knocking and not getting an answer.
The door to her bathroom was slightly ajar, and I could hear the water splashing from inside.
It took damn near every bit of self-control I had not to walk in there.
It was only a couple of minutes before she was coming out, wrapped in nothing but a white towel. Her hair was wet and down, framing her pretty face in a way I hadn’t seen before.
Her whole body jolted at seeing me standing there.
“Oh,” she exhaled.
“Triss wanted me to bring you some iced tea,” I told her, waving the glass, then setting it down on her nightstand.
“Oh, uhm, thanks.”
“I knocked.”
“I, ah, I didn’t hear,” she told me. “I was in the shower.”
“I see that,” I said, my gaze moving down her body as I lowered myself down on the edge of her bed.
Then I was reaching out, grabbing the bottom of her towel, giving her no choice but to move forward toward me.