Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
If only.
Liam’s hand comes up over my back, and I frown as I stare at my phone. “What are you doing?”
“Teaching him a lesson.”
“What?” I glance up to see Henley approaching us.
What the fuck?
“Hello, Juliet.” He fakes a smile. Looking like he just stepped off a runway, he’s wearing a gray suit, white shirt, and blue tie. His dark hair is all just mussed to perfection, and Oh my god, what the hell are you doing here?
“Henley, hi.”
Henley turns his attention to Liam. “Who are you?”
Liam smiles like an evil Cheshire cat. “Liam.” He gestures to me. “Juliet’s fiancé.”
He did not just say that.
Henley’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he puts his weight onto his back foot. His jaw flexes. “Fiancé?”
No, no, no.
No!
“That’s right.” Liam continues with his lies. “Do you know her well?”
Just shut the hell up!
Henley’s eyes come to me, and he rolls his lips. Fury oozes out of him. “Perhaps not.”
Please, earth, swallow me whole.
He glares at me, and I want to tell him this is all a lie, but what’s the point? He’s a douche and wouldn’t care anyway.
“Have a nice life, Julietttt.” He accentuates the T in my name. “With”—he looks Liam up and down and smirks as if amused—“your cute little fiancé.”
Arrogance personified.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Liam asks as he acts dumb.
Henley brushes past and purposely miscalculates the distance between them. He bumps Liam with his shoulder so hard that he nearly goes flying over. He pushes the heavy door open and storms out.
Liam stares after him. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?” I gasp. “Why the fuck would you say that? Now he thinks I’m a ho bag.”
“It takes one to know one.” He drops his shoulders as if pleased with himself. “He liked you.”
“How can you tell?”
He smiles broadly, feeling very pleased with himself. “He was pissed.”
“And this is funny because . . . ,” I gasp, infuriated.
“He had his chance, and he blew it. Touché, fucker.”
Chapter 3
Three years later . . .
“Congratulations.” Tim the real estate agent smiles as he hands over the keys. “It’s all yours.”
“Thank you.” I open the door, and we walk into the foyer. My parents and Liam are here to help celebrate this momentous occasion.
He looks around the old, dilapidated house. “Have fun renovating.”
“I will.” I beam. “Renovator’s delight, remember?”
Tim chuckles at his own sales pitch. “I remember.”
My grandmother, God rest her beautiful soul, left me and my brother a large inheritance each, and with my savings I have somehow snagged a house in the best neighborhood in Half Moon Bay.
This is my ideal suburb, but it was never even close to my price bracket. Somehow—and I’m guessing it was Grandma organizing this in heaven—the stars aligned.
I received her inheritance, and in the first week I was looking, this house came up.
It was a deceased’s estate with no beneficiaries, so the will trustee made the call that it would be sold to the first person who made an offer, any offer. By some miracle, I was the first to look at it, I fell in love, and I was the first to make an offer.
I nearly fainted when they accepted it.
It’s a total dump, but it’s on a beautiful street. Well, it’s not really a street. It’s a cul-de-sac, Kingston Lane.
“Bye,” Tim says as he walks down the front steps. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks again. Bye.”
I do a little jig on the spot in excitement. “Can you believe this?” I gasp.
My mom kisses me. “We’re so happy for you, Jules.” She grabs her phone from her bag. “Hold up your keys—I need a photo.” I hold up my keys and smile goofily as my mom snaps away.
“It’s bittersweet. I wish Gran was here.”
“She’s watching.” Mom smiles. “I know she is.”
“The worst house on the best street.” My dad smiles. “You’ve bitten off a lot, that’s for sure.”
“I’m up to the challenge.” I smile as I look around. “There’s no rush. I have forever to do it.”
The old house is clapboard and two stories. It’s white with a green tin roof. It has a wraparound veranda and an overgrown yard. It’s going to be a lot of hard work to bring it back to its original glory.
“And when does your puppy arrive?” Mom asks.
I do a little dance on the spot. “I pick him up from the shelter tomorrow. He’s actually the most exciting thing about finally buying a house. I can have my own dog. And he’s not a puppy, Mom. Remember, I adopted an older dog.”
“But I thought you wanted a puppy.”
“I did. But when I got there, he looked so sad and timid. He’s the one for me.”
“What are you going to call him?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll work it out together once he gets here.”
“What time does the moving truck arrive?” Dad asks.