Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
A loud crack startles me, choking my breath. I swear my heart skips a beat or ten. I’ll chalk it up to old wiring in the cabin, though this place is hardly rustic. I get up, not wanting to be alone.
From the few sounds I heard earlier—the creak of a door, heavy footsteps to the kitchen and back—I’m not sure where he is—the bedroom where Laird sleeps or in the living room by the fire. I open the door and peek into the dark hallway. “Laird?”
“In here,” he replies. I find him slipping his boots back on by the front door. “I’m going to check the generator again.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the corner of the kitchen area. “Do you think it’s done for good?”
Mulling the question, he straightens back, plucking his coat from the hook. “It might be out, or it could be a fluke. It’s worth trying to get it started again if I can, but maintaining a cabin isn’t one of my marketable skills.”
I still have no idea what his last name is, much less what he does for a living. He zips his coat and grabs a flashlight from the floor. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I reply, reaching the couch and holding the back of it. “Power outages don’t scare me.”
Testing the flashlight, he asks, “What does?”
“Bears,” I reply with a knowing grin. “Good thing you rescued me.”
“Eh, you didn’t need me.” Grabbing the door, he swings a smirk in my direction. “You had it handled.”
“I can give credit where it’s due. The bed here is a lot more comfortable than the back seat of my car. And warmer. Thank you for letting me stay the night.”
“Hopefully, it stays that way.” Something sparks in his expression. “I got the fire going, and we have plenty of dry wood.” Rubbing the heel of his shoe on a mat, he keeps his eyes trained on the action. But then he looks up. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fire when I return?” He’s quick to add, “If you don’t have other plans, that is.”
How can I resist the sweet suggestion? “As appealing as it is to sit in a dark room with nothing to do but lie there, I’ll be here when you return.”
“Yeah?” The smile I receive has me glad I’m holding the couch. As if I made his entire day, he nods and pulls the door open. “I’ll see you soon, Poppy.”
“See you soon, Laird.”
I’m given one great look at his handsome face and flashed a smile that feels personal and one the whole world should see. “Bye.” As soon as he leaves, I rush on my jelly knees to the bedroom to freshen up.
Glancing into the mirror, I grab my toiletries and my makeup bag from the top of the dresser and move to the windowsill. I must work fast with the last bit of day casting a blueish haze. It's not the most flattering light, but it will do. I had only bothered with the lightest of applications this morning since I didn’t know what I was in for, but now I’m quick to dab a little concealer in the corners of my eyes, swipe on some rose gold eye shadow that I know flatters me in normal circumstances since everything is by memory because of the light I’m quickly losing.
I add a little blush, though I probably didn’t need it since he makes me blush quite a bit. I skip the more involved processes like eyeliner and just add a few coats of mascara before dragging a brush through the mess on my head.
Up or down?
I lift my hair and then let it fall again. Down.
Deodorant and a light spritz of perfume are the final touches. Although I would have preferred to wear something more flattering, I thought I would be cooking today, so I went with my usual—a T-shirt I don’t mind if it gets ruined by stains and a pair of leggings. Sometimes I wear jeans if I know I’ll run into the clients. I wish I could wear one of the cute dresses I stupidly packed for a week in the woods, but it’s too late. Laird has already seen me today. A lot. If I’m wearing something different, he’ll think I changed clothes for him, and I could ruin it by adding pressure where neither of us needs it.
I pull the shirt toward the light, humiliated that I’m stuck wearing a shirt with a marinara stain on the front. Should I call Marina?
No. It’s fine. It’s fine. I got most of it out with soap. He’s a guy and won’t care anyway. He probably won’t even notice.
“You got a little something.” Laird’s eyes are directed at my chest. “On your shirt.” And now I shall die of embarrassment in front of him. His eyes only reach my chest once before returning to the higher ground of my eyes. Thank God.