Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Because I’d lived there for a short time. I didn’t say that though.
Wanting to get off the subject, I smiled again. “Well, this beats their pancakes. And neither of them makes real whipped cream. They buy the canned stuff.”
He seemed amused, and I was relieved. He hadn’t seemed fond of Micah when he came to the camper. I wanted to ask why, but I didn’t. We had a full day ahead of us, and I wanted to enjoy it.
“If you’re ready, we can head out to the helicopter.”
“It’s here?” I asked, laying my napkin on my plate and standing up.
He nodded. “There is a helipad on the roof. It’s why I chose this hotel for breakfast.”
Well, of course. I should have known that. I didn’t say my sarcastic thought aloud though.
Garrett led the way toward the elevator, and we went up two more floors before arriving on the rooftop of the hotel. He motioned for me to go out first, then followed me. When his hand came to rest on my lower back, I managed not to react. He’d never done that before. I knew that the fact that I liked it wasn’t a good thing, but I couldn’t help it.
I liked it.
A man walked over to us. He was younger than Garrett. I would guess he was in his early thirties. He was attractive—clean cut with dark hair and friendly brown eyes. His gaze barely grazed me before they went right back to Garrett.
“Fawn, this is Wilder Jones. He’s going to be our pilot today,” Garrett informed me.
Wilder nodded his head at me. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Parker.”
He already knew my name. Garrett was very thorough.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jones.”
His smile deepened. “It’s just Wilder.”
“Then, it’s just Fawn,” I replied.
His gaze swung to Garrett, as if he was asking permission.
“If that is what she wishes,” Garrett told him.
Wilder nodded, then turned to head back toward the helicopter.
Garrett’s hand was still on my back as he leaned down closer to me. “Wilder’s family are close friends of mine. I just recently moved him here to handle some personal details at the hotel for me, including piloting the helicopter.”
“I see,” I replied.
We followed Wilder to the helicopter. I glanced back up at Garrett and grinned, excited to get inside of it.
“I’ve never been on a plane,” I admitted. “Much less a helicopter.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth. “We will need to rectify that.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but didn’t. For now, I was going to live in the moment.
A private island was exactly that. It was a piece of heaven, surrounded by water. I was sure I hadn’t stopped smiling since we had gotten out of the helicopter. The cute bungalows along the sandy white beach were all at least four times bigger than my camper. I’d be happy living in one of those.
The main house that Garrett wasn’t sure if he should tear down or not was a mansion. When the driver—who had met us at the helipad on the island—stopped in front of the main house, my jaw dropped open. Garrett opened the door and stepped out of the Hummer, then turned and held out his hand for me. Not wanting to fall out of this too-high-off-the-ground vehicle, I placed my hand in his and climbed down.
It felt as if I couldn’t take it all in fast enough. The palm trees, the flowers, the house itself. I’d never been in a house this big. Getting to just walk through it was making me giddy.
“What do you think so far?” Garrett asked, his hand once again on my lower back.
I looked at him. “I think that if you tear this down, you’re insane.”
His mouth twitched. “Is that so?”
I nodded my head emphatically. “Yes. Please tell me you are not seriously considering that.”
He glanced back at it. “We’ve not seen the inside.”
“No, we haven’t, but I am willing to wager that it’s just as fabulous.”
Garrett’s expression seemed pleased. “You’re not someone I’m willing to gamble with. A nineteen-year-old that wins a camper is lethal.”
I sighed dramatically. “I shouldn’t have given away my secrets.”
He leaned closer to me then. His warm breath tickling my ear. “There’s plenty more I intend to unravel.”
Goose bumps covered my arms, and it was ninety-six degrees outside.
“Do you want a tour, Mr. Hughes, or would you rather walk through the house alone?” the man Garrett had introduced as his broker asked.
“Alone,” he replied.
Then, his hand gently pressed against my back as he began to walked toward the arched entrance. I fell into step beside him.
“What style of house is this?” I asked.
“It’s a spin on Mediterranean architecture,” he replied. “I’ve seen photos, but it’s not the same as viewing it in person.”
“Did someone live here?” I asked, curious about what this must be like. Living in a home such as this one.