Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I wrestle my thoughts, wondering how to answer when he speaks again. “You must miss your grandfather. As family but also, you know, as someone who supported you when it comes to—”
Killing. That part of the sentence is silent.
I throw another piece of wood into the fireplace, taking my time with the answer since I wasn’t expecting the turmoil in my heart. “I do. But he was so much older, he knew I’d need to be able to deal with his death sooner or later, so he talked to me about it, prepared me for it. For the responsibility of running the shop, for keeping my… needs met and secret. And even encouraged me to date. He was sweet like that. But he drilled into me that I can’t tell anyone what I do in my spare time. And that’s a loneliness I wasn’t prepared for.”
I’ve already switched on the generator, which allows us both to see just how thick the layers of dust are on every single surface. Blake swallows as he watches me clean, and I can’t help but feel self-conscious about being judged by this pampered boy, who likely didn’t have to clean his room once in his entire life.
“I think I get it. There’s a difference between understanding things intellectually and actually living with the feeling,” he says softly.
I go to the pantry to grab a can of tomato sauce, so I can make us pasta, but the food here won’t be as good as what I was able to treat him to at my place.
I glance at his pretty face. He’s young, but has strong brows, and his jaw is already quite angular. It’s his eyes though that always draw me in, so inquisitive as they follow me through the room. I want to keep him so badly.
“Why did you choose to run your podcast anonymously? Didn’t you want to be known? Unlike me, your calling isn’t illegal.”
Blake shrugs and reaches out for the fire, as if he wants to grab the flames in his beautiful fingers. “Carl thought it might put a target on my back and draw in the wrong kind of people. I mean, even you are a fan,” he adds with a faint grin and looks up at the shadows on the ceiling, where I’m disgusted to see a whole tapestry of spiderwebs. If I were here alone, I wouldn’t have even noticed, but I want him to have a good time in conditions that are appropriate to the season. And Halloween was a long time ago.
“This place reminds me of my treehouse. It had a roof just like this, with beams. I would dry plants by hanging them off there.”
I’m so greedy for any little scrap of new information about him. “I hope that’s a positive comparison? I’ll make this place much more festive soon, I promise. I packed some Christmas lights, and we can dry orange slices.”
I decide to sweep the floor before doing any cooking, even though this cabin is more of a hunter’s mancave than the setting for a romantic escape. I don’t know why I remembered it as much cozier, because it’s clearly beneath Blake’s standards.
My guest nods and leans back in the armchair, wiggling his feet over the floor. He’s biting his plump lip in a way that has my dirty mind stirring, but he’s clearly not in the mood, so I focus on my work.
“Maybe it’s not worth all this effort?” Blake asks, freezing me to the floor. “We could just follow him to Aspen, have the Christmas Killer be a guest star of the serial murder scene there.”
I still, but my mind is racing. He hates it here. He wants out and once I get rid of his brother, he’ll be safe to untangle himself from me and my ugly dark cabin, the Christmas shop he hates, and my greedy hands.
I’m not letting that happen.
I shake my head, sweeping with more fervor. “We can’t do that yet. It will be much safer to end him when he’s back in a place I’m familiar with. And I’d like to prepare. I have satellite internet here so I can do some digging. That assassin he hired was no amateur. I need to know what I’m up against.”
Blake lowers his gaze, and his hand tightens on the armrest of the chair as he stares into the fire, likely desperate to convince me that we can’t stay here. “But that’s also giving them time to track us down, and Carl has all the resources.”
I put the kettle on the stove, hoping hot chocolate will soothe his fears. “It’s been snowing, and I cover my tracks when using the internet or phone. We’ll be safe here.” I walk up to him and stroke his hair. “You are safe here.”