Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 26164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Winning.
She’d just gotten into the house, shivering because she had the heat turned off to save money, when there was a forceful knock on the door. It was so heavy that the poor door rattled from the force of it. She hurried over and opened the door.
“Why don’t you have a security light?”
She blinked at the grouchy question that greeted her. Then her eyes widened as an equally cranky meow came from the cat held under her neighbor’s arm.
“Princess Pickles! What are you doing?” She reached for the enormous cat, nearly collapsing under her weight. The cat wriggled until she set it down, then it pranced off to her food bowl.
“Well?” her neighbor demanded.
She really wished she knew his name.
“What? Oh, the security light? Um, I have one. I guess maybe the bulb is blown or something.”
“Replace it.”
The urge to salute him was so strong that she clasped her hands together to stop herself.
“Thanks for bringing over Princess Pickles. Where was she?” she asked.
“At my house. She came inside and hid under my bed.”
Whoops. He didn’t sound too pleased about that.
“You should keep her inside. She could get lost or attacked.”
“Yes, I know,” Lucie agreed. “She’s normally always inside. She must have snuck out.”
Sneaky kitty.
As if she knew they were talking about her, Princess Pickles turned and meowed at them grouchily.
“I’m sorry she made herself at home in your cabin. Charlotte, who lived there before you, used to look after her for me if I was away. Princess Pickles probably sees it as her second home.”
He just grunted.
“I’ll have to make you a cake for letting me use your phone and to apologize for Princess Pickles. What’s your favorite flavor?”
“I don’t like cake.”
He didn’t like cake? Who didn’t like cake?
Serial killers and psychopaths, that’s who.
“Um, right,” she said, feeling disheartened. She was so exhausted, she was practically swaying on her feet.
His gaze narrowed, and he looked around. “Why is it so cold in here? Can’t you light your fire?”
“I can light my fire,” she said, feeling indignant. “I just got home.”
He grunted, then turned away. She held in a sigh. At the edge of the porch, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Lock the door behind me. Replace that lightbulb. Keep the cat inside.”
Then he was gone.
“Sir, yes, sir,” she muttered before glancing down at Princess Pickles, who weaved between her feet. “And I still don’t know his name! What shall we call him? I know, what about Sir Grouch-a-lot? That’s a perfect name. Come on, Princess Pickles, I’ve got to get up early in the morning for the school fair.” Somehow, she’d gotten talked into manning one of the booths. Not that she minded.
It would keep her busy and her mind off her bossy neighbor.
2
“Atticus!”
The banging at his door, accompanied by the deep voice yelling his name, had him stomping towards the door.
“What?” He glared at the man standing on the other side.
Samuel Rock just smiled back at him. “Come on, get ready. Let’s go.”
“Go where?” he asked suspiciously. He’d known the other man since college, and they’d stayed in touch over the years. Rocky, as he was known to all his friends, was the reason Atticus had moved here.
“There’s a fair in town today to fundraise for the local high school.”
“And?”
“You’re coming with me.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” What the fuck did Rocky take him for?
“Come on, man,” Rocky cajoled, stepping into the cabin. Atticus frowned. He wasn’t fond of having people in his space. “Everyone will be there. Including your neighbor. Have you met Lucie yet? She’s probably been there since early this morning helping.”
He didn’t like the easy way Rocky spoke about his neighbor. How well did he know her?
“Why would she be there helping? She barely looks like she’s out of high school.”
“Lucie isn’t that young. She’s nearly thirty, I think. And she always helps out. I’m sure she’s made plenty of her famous chocolate chip cookies. I don’t want to miss out on them, so let’s go.”
Atticus shook his head. “Here. I have some chocolate chip cookies she made. Take ‘em.” Turning, he grabbed the cookies she’d given him earlier. “Just return her plate.”
“Yes!” Sam stared at the cookies like they were gold. Then he glanced back up at him. “Atticus, if you want to be part of the community, then you’ve got to leave the house sometimes. Gemma wouldn’t want you to turn into some grumpy old hermit.”
That’s precisely what he planned on becoming. And he didn’t appreciate Rocky telling him what Gemma would want. His scowl deepened. He opened his mouth to refuse.
“All right.”
Fuck. How did that happen?
Seriously. How did she keep that smile on her face?
A line of children were waiting at the face painting stall, and Lucie greeted each one cheerfully. It made his back teeth ache. It really couldn’t be normal. She wore a bright pink headband that had two sequined cat ears sticking out from it. There were whiskers painted on her face and a black circle on the tip of her nose. She’d pulled her black hair back in a braid, and wore a tail that sat just above her perky, cute butt.