Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Hi.” I take her in my arms. “Surprise,” I say softly.
“What’s all the noise?” Charlie complains, coming out of his bedroom. “Ugh, why is she here?”
“Why are you still here?” my father asks. “Come and get her bag.”
“Dad, I was up at five this morning,” he huffs at him but comes downstairs anyway to get my stuff. “We don’t like unannounced guests,” he says, and my father slaps him upside the head. “Ow.”
“You know what we don’t like?” my father grits with clenched teeth. “Having you try to sneak a woman out of the house at five a.m. wearing your clothes.”
“Idiot.” I shake my head.
“What about Jim Preston?” he accuses me, and my eyes go big as he mentions the high school boyfriend I dated for six months. “He jumped out the window in the morning.”
My parents look over at me. “He did not,” I deny, avoiding looking at them. “If it makes anyone feel better, we didn’t do anything.”
“Grace,” my father growls between clenched teeth.
“It was like six years ago.” I throw my hands up. “I’m hungry.” I try to change the subject; luckily, my parents drop it, and so does Charlie.
“I can eat,” he says to my mother, who shakes her head.
“When can’t you eat?” She turns now and heads to the kitchen, and for the rest of the night, it feels like I’m sixteen again. Charlie and I always throwing gibes at each other, with my mother telling us to behave. I slide into my bed, picking up the phone, and reading through the messages I’ve sent him. The last one still unanswered. All night I dream of him and Meadow. I can even feel his kisses in my dreams, and when I wake up the next day, I feel lost.
I turn over in the bed, seeing it’s a little past nine. Stretching before getting out of bed and walking down the stairs, I find my mother sitting on one of the stools doing paperwork. “Morning,” I mumble, going over to the pot of coffee and making myself a cup.
Pulling out a stool, I sit next to my mother. “Where is everyone?” I ask her as I take a sip of the hot coffee.
“Your father and brother went to the barn,” she explains. “They got some new horses yesterday, so they went to check them out to see how they are doing.”
“Oh, fun,” I say, “maybe I’ll go over there and see.”
“Your father would love that.” She closes the computer, and I look at her. “So do you want to talk about why you’re here?”
“I came to visit.” I take another sip of my coffee, hoping she drops it.
She laughs. “Honey, that may work on the men you have wrapped around your finger. Like your grandfather and father.” She tilts her head, and her eyebrows shoot up. “But you are going to have to do better than that with me.”
“It’s nothing.” My stomach gets tight. “I just needed to get some space is all.”
“That doesn’t sound like nothing.” Her voice is soft.
“I’m seeing someone,” I admit, and her eyes try to hide the shock of it. I always dated, but it never stuck. It would last one date, maybe two at the most, but then it would fizzle out.
“That’s a big—” She stops talking when I hold up my hand to stop her.
“He’s older than me.” I hold up one finger. “He’s got a daughter.” I hold up a second finger, and I can see her eyes get bigger and bigger. “And he’s my boss.” Gosh, saying it all out loud sounds so much more intense than I thought it would be.
“Grace,” my mother says between clenched teeth.
“I know.” I push off from the counter and get up, not to go anywhere but to pace while we talk this out. “But what part are you more surprised at?”
“All of it,” she admits. “How much older?”
“I don’t know, maybe nine years,” I say. “Which doesn’t bother me, but it bothered him.”
“Past tense, so he’s over it?” she asks. All I can do is shrug because I’m assuming after last weekend it doesn’t bother him anymore. “How old is his daughter?”
“She’s four.” I smile, thinking of how much Meadow would love it here. “And she’s amazing.”
“Grace,” she says my name softly, “he’s your boss.”
“I know.” I throw up my hands and slap the counter in front of me.
“You hate him,” she reminds me of all the times she called, and I would rant about him.
“I know.” I hang my head. “I did, but now—”
“But now you’ve gone and fallen in love with a single dad, who is your boss.” She sums it up, and I just shake my head, not looking up at her.
“So why are you here and not there?” she asks me the million-dollar question.
“His ex wants him back, I think.” As I say the words, I put my head down on my arms.