Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
“Shoot,” I whispered under my breath as Shane shifted on the couch, waking up and blinking up at me.
“It’s okay,” he said.
Good God, he looked cute when he was sleepy. His hair was a mess, and as he pushed himself up on the couch, he blinked heavily.
“Your couch is too comfortable,” I murmured, sitting back down near him.
“I swear it’s even better than a bed, sometimes,” he mumbled. “Do you need anything? Coffee? Orange juice? Toast? I think I have stuff to make banana pancakes, if you want something like that.”
“I can see why you’re good at working at the inn,” I said. “Barely awake and you’re already offering me a four-course breakfast. That’s some good hospitality.”
He laughed softly, wiping at his eyes as he stood up. He went to push open the curtains in front of his living room window, and the gentle light poured in from outside.
“Whoa,” he said as we both looked out front.
Overnight, a slow snow had begun to fall.
Everything outside in the front yard was covered in a thin layer of white snow, glittering a little in the morning light. Every tree had snow all over its branches too, and down the road, I glimpsed a couple of Shane’s neighbors out with their shovels, clearing off their driveways.
“It’s so beautiful,” I said.
“God, winter is my favorite season,” Shane said quietly. “Nothing could compete with this.”
“Hey, summer barbecues and beach days are pretty good, too,” I offered. “But… I think you’re right. Winter might be the winner.”
Shane turned to grin at me, and I was struck by how good something this simple could be. His face in the morning, with his pretty eyes and easy smile. The quaint but quietly gorgeous street outside. It wasn’t the busy city lights of Manhattan, but it was… fuck, it was almost even better.
“Okay. So I’m not going to make the four-course breakfast, but I sure as hell am going to make a cup of coffee. Want one?” Shane asked.
“You know it.”
Shane dipped to pick his phone up from the coffee table, giving it a glance for the first time this morning.
Something in his eyes changed as he looked at the phone screen, an expression of shock coming over his face.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. He moved to show me his phone screen, and as he did, I saw that his hand was shaking.
It was an email.
From the Fixer Brothers, saying that they were interested in his application and would like to move on to a second round interview.
A smile spread over my face as I looked at Shane.
“Told you,” I said.
“Holy shit,” he said, looking back at his phone. “They want to do a video call interview this week. Hold on, I really need that caffeine.”
I followed him to the kitchen where he made each of us a fresh cup of coffee. We both took it with cream and sugar, and we brought the mugs back to the couch, taking sips as we looked out at the snowy world outside.
I felt like I was floating on a cloud, but when I looked over at Shane, I could tell his mind was racing.
“I’m so proud of you,” I offered. “I know that might not mean much coming from me, but I really am.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Proud?”
I nodded. “You submitted your video. Made it to the second round. Most people wouldn’t even try.”
He looked out at the front yard, his eyes training on a squirrel darting across the snowy ground. “I’m not so sure I should have tried.”
“What?” I protested, setting down my coffee mug. “Are you crazy?”
“The video was just something I had to send in,” he explained. “But now I’m going to have to talk to the Fixer Brothers. I’m going to be a nervous wreck.”
“As far as I’ve seen, you’re pretty charming when you’re nervous,” I told him. “Maybe even more charming.”
Shane didn’t seem convinced. He took a swig of coffee, looking more doubtful by the moment. “What am I going to do? Fuck, I’m not even in a couple. How am I going to be convincing?”
I furrowed my brow. “Shane, I’m right here,” I said. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll do the interview with you, and we’re going to rock it.”
He looked like he might be about to cry. “I don’t deserve you. Or this.”
I reached over and gently took his coffee from him, setting it down on the table. “Hey. What do you think your grandma would have said? Right now, if she were here, looking at this email?”
Shane gave me a look that was the exact middle between joy and grief—I could see, all in one moment, how deeply he wished she really were here.
But at the same time, a slow smile started to spread over his face. Something lightened in him, and as he spoke, I could sense a calm in him that hadn’t been there before.