Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I flapped my hand in the air. “Imagine how cute that would be if someone bought it and fixed it up! It could be one of those bougie dinner-and-wine theaters.”
Tiller reached over and yanked my collar up. I shot him a confused look.
“You’re just cute when you get passionate about things,” he teased.
I slapped his hand away and kept rolling slowly through the town, trying to take in all of the quaint shops and loads of potential. “Robert Redford needs to come here and inject some money into this place.”
We quickly left the main area of town and wound our way up the mountainside until pulling through a wooden archway with faded letters carved into it.
“The Rockley Lodge?” Tiller asked, his voice laced with curiosity. “Sounds bigger than a little rental cabin in the woods.”
I navigated the narrow snow-edged lane between the trees to a clearing. “It’s a little more than a cabin,” I admitted before catching sight of it.
It was a giant, log-hewn structure that looked like something out of an architectural magazine. The lodge was crafted with an artistic mix of wood and stone and boasted a huge, welcoming front porch lit up with actual gas lanterns hanging from iron pegs.
“Holy fuck,” Tiller said. “We made a wrong turn.”
“No. We definitely rented from the Rockleys. Or, rather, the company that manages the Rockley Estate. I think the rental guy on the phone told me the owners passed away, so maybe it’s being managed by a company now. I didn’t pay much attention after he offered me a big discount for the month.”
I pulled around the circular drive, noticing it had been neatly snow blown or shoveled or something. Whatever it was snow-dwellers did to remove the snow from their driveway. The place was well-kept despite being about ten times bigger than the two of us needed.
“Too bad everyone else is stuck in Houston or we could have a kick-ass house party,” Tiller said, opening the door and letting in the arctic air.
I reached back for my puffy coat and scrambled into it, zipping it up to my chin before hopping out of the rapidly cooling SUV.
“It has a ton of bedrooms. I think it used to be a big family lodge,” I said, coming around to the other side of the vehicle and standing next to him as we stared up and out at the many-leveled wings of the lodge. “Don’t worry. They said the bedroom wings are all closed off for people who don’t need them. The master and housekeeper’s rooms should be open for us.”
He turned to face me with a frown. “Housekeeper?”
“Me.”
“No. I know. I just… you’re not the housekeeper. You’re a guest.”
I moved toward the front door and pulled my phone out to find the security code for the keypad. “I’m their guest, but I’m your housekeeper. It’s fine. I’m sure the housekeeper’s room in this place is nicer than most people’s regular bedroom.”
“You’re not my housekeeper!” His voice carried through the frigid night. “You’re my… my…”
I waited him out so I could hear the way he always seemed to finish this sentence when it came up.
“My Mikey,” he finished weakly.
I fucking loved hearing him say that. “Be that as it may, your Mikey is just fine. If not, I know from experience I can fit in a king bed with you.” I winked at him before turning back to tackle the lock. I ignored the slight hitch of breath he took when I’d winked at him.
Being alone with him like this was oddly electrifying.
The lodge was just as stunning on the inside as it was on the outside. The decor was chunky leather and wood softened with colorful textiles and some stunning framed photographs of—what I assumed were—local flora and fauna as well as landscapes from the area.
A giant stone fireplace had pride of place in the cozy sitting room attached to the large kitchen, and I could picture spending nights curled up on the overstuffed armchair in front of the fire while Tiller watched football on the flat-screen TV from the long sofa. The kitchen itself was to die for. It had everything I could ever want and had already been stocked by arrangement with a grocery delivery company.
I was in heaven.
“It’ll do,” Tiller said with a tease in his voice. I shot him the bird without looking away from the commercial-sized mixer on a stand at the end of a pristine stainless-steel countertop.
“My precious…” I murmured, running my hands over the controls.
“I’m going to take a shower, then try out the hot tub. You want to join me?” Tiller walked over to the fridge and reached in for a bottle of water while I imagined joining him in a hot shower and helping soap up his broad shoulders and rounded muscles. “Mike?”