Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
It looks like Brock is planning to massively clean this place. He has notes about pressure washing, shoveling the drive, and steam cleaning the carpet.
He plates the food then sees the list. “Oh, that’s just the stuff I have to get done before I move to Charleston. Selling this place probably won’t take long. It’s in a great location, and—”
I call his name softly, unable to keep the smile off my face. “I don’t want you to move to Charleston. I wanted to move here with you…if you’d like that.”
“Are you serious?” He sets the plates down and turns to me. “I don’t need you to uproot your whole life for me.”
I shake my head. “I like where you live. I don’t have any family in my area and my writing friends are virtual. We’re spread out all over the country. Plus, I can write from anywhere. But you’ll have to start your career over again and work your way up from the bottom. I don’t want that.”
He gathers me in his arms. “I’d do it for you in a heartbeat. Leave everything and everyone behind. It wouldn’t even be a sacrifice in my mind.”
He’d give me anything I asked for. It’s just one more thing I love about this man—how selfless he is. But I can’t allow him to give up his entire career for me. “I’d rather raise our dozen children around their grandmother and aunt.”
“There is the built-in babysitting factor,” he muses.
“Exactly!” I beam at him. “I’ve got a real estate agent looking into my grandmother’s property. She says given the location, I should be able to sell within just a few weeks. We could be in the same town by early spring.”
“Screw the same town. If you move to South Tahoe, you’re living here. With me.”
I trace my fingertips along his beard. I love the way it’s soft and scratchy at the same time. “I like that idea.”
“Good. Then we need to get to work on those dozen babies,” he says as he scoops me into his arms and carries me back up the stairs. Breakfast can wait. We’re both hungry for something different.
I’m waiting for Brock to pick me up in the lobby of the resort. He’s taking me to meet his mom later today. I tried to tell him it was too soon, but he told me it was never too soon for his future wife to meet his mother. Then he gave me a wink and kissed me until my panties were damp.
When I spot the copy of Vogue Weddings, I can’t help but reach for it. He hasn’t officially asked me yet, but Brock has made it very clear we are going to be married and soon too. He’s already threatening to whisk me away to Vegas.
I flip through the magazine enthralled with the beautiful brides and handsome grooms. None of them will hold a candle to Brock. I already know that.
One wedding party catches my attention and I gasp. My heart sinks when I see the groomsman. This is going to crush Emmy. Still, I think she’d rather hear the news from a friend than be ambushed later.
Hurrying to her cabin, I don’t wait for her to open the door before I burst inside. She’s alone, like I knew she would be. With my stomach in knots, I say, “You know the handyman you’ve spent every day with?”
A soft smile crosses Emmy’s face. “Griff,” she repeats his name with a soft sigh like it has the sweetest taste.
“You need to see this,” I shove the magazine at her, already hating myself for crushing her dreams. It was written all over her face when she said his name just now. She’s in love with a man who isn’t what he said he was. He’s lied to her. He’s not some poor blue-collar guy working at the lodge to make ends meet. He’s a billionaire and the owner of the whole place. It looks like he’s been playing her since she arrived.
She takes the magazine from me and scans the page. She sinks onto her bed. “Are you sure this is right?”
“I did a search online.” I sit on the bed beside her and show her my phone with the results. There aren’t many pictures. He keeps a low profile, but I found out a lot about Griffin Industries. It’s a family company. A Fortune 500 one. The guy is loaded, something that Emmy despises.
Her own troubled past and years spent clawing just to have the basics have made her distrustful of rich men. Then it turns out that Griff is one. “Can I do anything for you?”
She studies the glossy color pages of the magazine, undeniable proof.
I wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her into a tight hug. “Call me when you’re ready to talk or cry or get drunk. You know I have your back.”