Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Gracie thinks over this new information.
“So you’re the asshole developer that everyone hates. You’re the one that’s putting up that huge glass monstrosity with unobstructed views of the lake.”
“Yes, that’s me,” I say in a steady voice. “And the house is going to be fucking fabulous. It’s almost done now because I’ve been on site every day, overseeing shit. I’m no expert at construction because like I said, my expertise is in social media and technology. But you’d be surprised at how much faster people move when they know I’m walking the grounds.”
Grace is so stunned that her mouth hangs open in a round “O” as she blinks. Oh shit, this has been too much, too soon, and my heart sinks.
“You really thought I was a lumberjack, didn’t you?” I mutter while taking her small hand in my own and squeezing it. “You really thought I was a blue-collar guy between gigs, kicking up my feet before hitting the road again. But I’m not, Gracie, and I’m sorry for lying to you.”
“But why?” she chokes out, still stunned. “I trusted you!”
“I know this feels like another betrayal, but once I started with the alias of Braden Rock, I didn’t want to stop. It felt good to be a normal guy. To be anonymous, without people kowtowing right and left. And it felt nice to be wanted for who I am, and not how much money I have, or how much influence I can peddle. I was just me, a simple man, and I want you to know that I adore you because of what we’ve been through together, Gracie. You love Braden Rock, the man on the mountain, and that knowledge is priceless to me.”
“But still,” she whispers, reeling from shock. “This has been all about you. But what about me, Braden? And you still haven’t answered my question. How did you get Chief Roscoe to investigate Jim and Robbie if he thought you were a simple lumberjack?”
I pause.
“Well, the chief knows the truth. He knows who’s constructing the lodge on the hillside, so my true identity wasn’t a secret to him. Plus, the construction revealed irregularities. My general contractor let me know that the water usage for the property was wonky. Someone was siphoning water from our sources, and my water bill was way out of whack as a result.”
Grace tilts her head to the side with confusion.
“Okay, but what does that mean?”
I nod.
“Water theft is a big deal in California. The state’s hit by drought all the time, and thieves will do anything to tap into this valuable resource. A lot of the stolen water is used to irrigate illegal farm operations, and yours was one such case. Your marijuana plot was being watered by water belonging to me. We found out because I hired a builder to install private fire hydrants along my property line. Before the installation began, they did a survey of the current water usage and systems, and discovered the diversion to your farm.”
“What?” Gracie gasps, two spots of color burning in her cheeks. “No one told me this! We always sourced our water from the pipes on our property! No one said a word about stealing water, or that water belonging to someone else.”
“I know, because we never would have uncovered it, had I not been fire-proofing my property. Hell, we wouldn’t have uncovered it if I hadn’t been taking special precautions to protect my investment, seeing how California’s been ravaged by fire recently. That’s how we know.”
“But who did it?” she asks. “I swear, it wasn’t me.”
I nod.
“Sweetheart, I would never think it’s you, and the fact is that we’re not sure who diverted the water at this time. I’d like to say Robbie and Jim, but I don’t think your father and brother are smart enough to even dream up water theft. They’re idiots,” I say with disgust.
“They are because they were sniffing up the wrong tree the whole time,” Gracie says in a soft voice. “They told me you were a homeless guy who was squatting on the property. They told me that you were pretending to be a gainfully-employed lumberjack, when really you were an illegal squatter trying to get into my pants.”
“Well, they wouldn’t be wrong about the getting into your pants part,” I rumble while squeezing her waist with a big hand. “But yeah. It seems that Robbie and Jim realized that I was using a fake identity. They just got the wrong fake identity,” I growl in an amused tone. “Who would have thought?”
But Gracie’s still trying to process the slew of new revelations.
“So you’re not Braden Rock, lumberjack. You’re Braden Rockwell, CEO,” Gracie says in a slow tone.
“I am, sweetheart,” I confirm. “The “well” at the end of “Rockwell” makes all the difference. Google it, and you’ll see.”