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)
I squint at his broad, muscular back, too shell-shocked to speak.
I thought he’d be the tense one thanks to this whole situation and the fact that I’m here in his house.
After everything else, I never thought he’d invite me over and treat me like this is no big deal.
I definitely didn’t expect him throwing around innuendo like we’re on a second date.
Oh, crap. Are we?
I shake my head like I can physically banish the thought.
“I like your house a lot,” I say lightly.
Keep it calm and casual. Stay cool.
He’s only grilling you steak and what smells like a delicious chimichurri sauce with his sleeves rolled up in a kitchen that should be on MasterChef.
This is fine.
Totally normal behavior, and not even a little bit date-like.
Yeah.
I really cannot go around thinking Shepherd is treating me like a date.
We’re not dating.
We’re not even screwing anymore.
This is purely a work meeting until it isn’t.
“Thanks,” he says smoothly. “I designed it myself.”
“Wait, what? You’re an architect too?”
“I’m demanding. I hired the right people to make my needs a reality.”
No argument there.
He flips the steaks over. “None of the other houses I looked at had what I wanted, so I had to build it. It only took a hundred hours of my life with sketches and consultations and corrections.”
I have to grip the counter with both hands.
Is there nothing he isn’t good at?
“It paid off. This place is drop-dead gorgeous.”
Molly lets out a loud yip of agreement that bounces off the high ceilings.
His next glance is assessing, but he just nods.
Deftly, like he’s heard it a thousand times, and maybe he has.
This is a home that deserves to be shown, though he’s so private I can’t imagine he would.
I watch him slather the steaks in green sauce, line asparagus neatly on the side, and then spoon rosemary-scented potatoes onto the plate.
My mouth waters.
After animals and the ocean, my next dearest love might just be food. I’m not ashamed of it either.
“You don’t have a chef?” I ask as we take our places on the island, opposite one another.
“No. No staff,” he answers.
“None at all?” My eyebrows go up. Even Dad keeps over a dozen people on payroll just to manage everything when he owns several properties and travels a ton.
“A few cleaners come in twice a week, just to help stay on top of things. There’s also my personal security specialist, Hank, now interning with Enguard Security out in California. I don’t skimp on my safety.”
I stare at him, waiting for more that seems to hang in the air.
It makes perfect sense that a man with his money who heads a world-class home security company would have strong personal protection. So why does it feel like more than that?
He reaches down to scratch Molly’s head before I can ask.
I don’t know if it’s me, but his voice sounds a tad wistful. A tiny bit lonely.
Like maybe he’s so used to it being this way he doesn’t know how to imagine anything else. Just him and his small, distant house crew... but does that mean it’s what he wants forever?
I don’t know if Shepherd even knows what he wants.
“Your girl won’t jump our plates, will she? Time to eat.” He carries two thick, ceramic plates of steaming food over to this massive wooden table and lays them down.
Once I’m sure I’ve got Mol settled with an antler chew I fish out of my bag, I sit down across from him.
I’m not expecting to be totally bowled over.
The steak melts in my mouth, and I melt with it.
Even the wine he’s paired it with is on point, elevating the meal from awesome surprise to exquisite shock and awe.
“I prefer a rosé,” he explains as he takes a long sip, staring over the edge of his glass.
“Oh, so you’re not a traditionalist.” I smile into my own sip, and it’s so good I could die.
I’ve always been a bit of a wine snob—probably comes with the territory when you grow up rich—and this ticks all my boxes.
“Not for everything, Dess. Sometimes a man must be inventive.”
I look at the glass, running my finger over the slight condensation, letting the slight sharp bite of chill ground me.
“Well, this is nice and all, but should we get down to it? Talk damage control? You must have something in mind, but I’ll go first.” I take a deep breath. “I decided to feel out Meghan via DM personally since we were acquainted before all this. I’ve asked her if she’s willing to hear my side to consider a retraction.”
His face turns up sharply, but not with the anger I half expected.
“You think she’ll go for it?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t think she’s a bad person exactly, though she likes to play one for views. This sort of thing is her brand, sharing gossip and tea, but I know she calls it human interest.” I pause and sigh. “I really don’t know if she’ll consider a truce. But there’s no harm in correcting the facts since there’s nothing much hidden anymore. No harm in trying, right?”