Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
He makes me flush.
Now we’re sitting around in Islan’s room, and Paisley’s recounting her story. She managed to get an early copy of the latest Clan Chronicles, and she’s telling us all.
“But it’s insane how similar it is to us, girls, I tell you what.”
Fran huffs out a breath. “Impossible, Paisley. It doesn’t make sense for it to be someone here.”
“Well, didn’t they think it was the housekeeper? Did they ever find her?”
Islan shakes her head. “No. But I think Tate’s got a lead on where she might be.”
Fran’s eyes go wide. I wonder if I’m the only one who notices the panicked expression on her face.
“Oh? Where might that be?”
“Dunno,” Paisley says. “You’ll have to ask Tate.”
Fran pushes herself up from the bed. “I think I’ll do that.”
She leaves the room, and the rest of us look at each other in surprise.
“There’s something going on with the two of them, isn’t there?” Paisley asks.
Islan snorts. “As if either one of them will ever admit it, eh?”
I blow out a breath and rest my hand on my abdomen. It might be my imagination, but I wonder if I just felt a little kick. Probably too soon to tell, but I’m giddy with anticipation.
“Well, girls, some people take a little while to find these things out, don’t they?”
“Aye,” Islan says. “And some never get a chance to, because they live with their overprotective bloody families.”
Paisley gives her a sidelong look as she slides a brush through her hair. “And some have to just learn to be really discreet.”
I shake my head. “Now, girls, don’t tell me anything you don’t want Mac to know, for he’s got that way of prying literally anything out of me.”
“Knock knock.”
“Come in!”
Nan hobbles in on her cane, followed by a woman I don’t know. She’s got red hair with gray at the temples, and the girls jump up to see her. Behind her is a tall, black-haired woman.
“Maeve! Caitlin! How good to see you,” Paisley says. “What brings you here?”
“Came to visit your mum and heard you girls were havin’ a right good chat about the latest books up here.”
They hug each other and introduce me. Maeve gives me a warm hug. “But the real reason, girls, is that we’ve got a cousin of ours getting married soon, and we need someone to help with the dresses.” Her eyes twinkle at me. “We heard that Bryn here is the best there is.”
I grin, push myself off the bed, and reach for my iPad. Mac’s got me set up in a shop in town. I even have my own website.
“Ah, I can, thanks to my husband.”
“Look at the way she says husband every chance she gets,” Islan says with a snort.
“Can’t blame her, though,” Caitlin says. “When I married Keenan, I called him husband at every possible opportunity.”
Ah, she’s Keenan McCarthy’s wife. “I’m glad someone gets it.”
We look over the website and talk about dresses. Fran rejoins us a while later, and her hair’s a bit tousled. I swear she was just looking for a reason to go find Tate. Can’t say that I blame her. The Cowen brothers are heavy-handed and dominant as hell, but they’ve got a gentleness about them that makes a girl swoon. Not to mention they’re easy on the eyes.
I yawn, so sleepy, when I hear a familiar voice at the door.
“Where’s my wife?”
I sit straight up, my heart pounding like it always does when I hear Mac come home.
“I’m here! What are you doing home?”
He shrugs. “Came home early, lass. Missed you.”
Islan makes a gagging motion and Paisley smacks her. Maeve grins and Caitlin smiles at the two of us.
“That’s me out for the night, girls.”
“Here, take the book,” Cairstina says, handing me the latest one.
“Thanks for that.”
He rolls his eyes. “You girls still reading those?”
“Och, aye, we are.” We walk down the vacant hallway together. My heart is so full. I’ve got a newfound family that loves me, and a husband that dotes on me. I have a shop of my own, and every day I do the work that I adore. And soon, I’ll have a wee bairn of my very own to love and raise with Mac.
“They’re just fairy tales, aren’t they?” he asks, but he’s teasing me. He’s the one that buys them the moment they come out and brings them back home to surprise me with. “Nothing like real life.”
I smile at him, as we walk hand in hand home. “You’re right,” I say softly. “Real life is infinitely better.”