Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
“Hello?” I call. “Anybody home?”
I’m pleasantly surprised and a little weirded out that a man who owns a major home security company doesn’t lock his door, even if the house is surrounded by a gate with a digital intercom screen that must go to someone manning it twenty-four seven.
“In the kitchen!” Shepherd calls right back. “Come down the hall.”
I fully mean to head straight down to join him. But as I walk the wide hallway flanked with golden sconces glowing like artificial torches, I get distracted.
The house is actually a proper ring around a glass-walled atrium full of wild growth and greenery. Is that a breakfast nook hidden in the flowers and trees?
Be still, my heart.
A stone path leads outward, splitting the house neatly in one spot as it leads directly down to the waterfront.
I should’ve guessed it would go to his own personal pier. Several kayaks are tied up there, dwarfed by a ridiculously large yacht.
It’s not nice.
'Nice' is too tepid a word for this place when it’s bursting with class and character with plenty of space to roam around in.
Best of all, it’s not the fifteen-thousand-square-foot castle to one man so many rich people need to show off.
He can’t host a small town with a freaking ballroom like other billionaires Dad knew. This seems like just enough, a comfortable place that feels like a real home for a larger-than-life man.
I’m beyond impressed.
It takes a lot to impress a billionaire’s daughter, but somehow, he’s done it.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
At this point, I should expect Shepherd to subvert expectations.
After one last longing look around in the fading light while I rein Mol in, I follow the lights, padding my way to his kitchen.
Of course, it’s enormous. Stylish, too.
The wall tiles are soft earth tones surrounding sleek greenblack cabinets. A hulking island separates us from Shepherd, who stands in front of the range with his shirt sleeves rolled up.
So, he doesn’t just cook when he’s camping.
For a hot minute, all I can do is stare in awe.
I thought the otter trip showed me a generous slice of the real man.
Now, I know it barely scratched the surface.
There’s something about seeing him like this in his home, suit coat and waistcoat gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie discarded.
The top two buttons of his shirt are undone when he turns to face me.
Oh, boy.
My heart does that flippy thing again.
Molly also perks up and chooses that moment to lunge, and the leash slips from my now-loose grasp.
“Shit! Mol, no!” I gasp as my thirty-five-pound dog leaps at Shepherd.
It happens so fast.
I can only watch in breathless horror as he—catches her?
Yep.
Just grabs her and hoists this big, squirming fluffball in his arms, cradling her like a baby as she wiggles with joy and licks his face frantically.
My heart? The one that was fluttering a second ago?
It pretty much melted into jelly at the sight of him smiling slightly in that way he has, weathering her frantic face slurps.
“Welcome to the manor, girl,” he says.
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to the dog and not me.
My heart is too full.
I don’t know whether to smile or shrivel up and die of embarrassment.
But how can I even have feelings like this?
Sure, we’ve had some hot sex and tons of unexpected drama, but I can’t—
No. Not going there.
“I’m mortified. She hasn’t been this crazy for months. I thought I’d trained it out of her, but... clearly, we still have work to do.”
“No hard feelings.” He sneaks her a piece of the strip steak he’s been frying up and my gooey heart puddles in my shoes.
“Now you’ve done it,” I say, finding my voice and rushing forward to pull my dog away. “You’ll spoil her. She’s already a little duchess.”
“Royalty, huh? I guess pets really do take after their owners,” he teases, planting a kiss on the top of my dog’s head and finally setting her down.
Molly circles around the kitchen in glee, still licking her chops.
“A demanding princess,” I argue. “Don’t even comment.”
“Certainly. She learned it from the best,” he says, totally ignoring my warning.
I fold my arms, but he just throws back another one of those sly smiles and turns back to the steak. “Have fun snooping around my place or what?”
I gasp. “I wasn’t snooping!”
“Weird. I’d have thought you’d have come right down instead of spending three minutes walking around.”
“...you were counting?”
My face must be white.
Eventually, the longer he stares me down, I crack and start laughing.
“Fine! I had a little look. Couldn’t resist. Nice boat, by the way.” I motion to the ship perched near the small dock and boathouse down the hill, past the floor-to-ceiling window.
“I was hoping you’d notice. It does the trick for getting around when you’re too worn out from kayaking or other activities.”
Is he joking? Straight-up dicking with me?