Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Royal shot me an amused grin. “Wouldn't you like to know?” At my glare, he laughed. “Just the normal best-friend-slash-big-brother type stuff. I better watch my step and treat you right, etc. Since I was going to do that anyway, no big deal. I like him.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “Most of the time.”
“He's just looking out for you. I like that you have that. Tenn would probably be grilling you on my behalf by now if he wasn't enslaved to your brownies.”
“Just wait till he tries this cake,” I said, my nerves easing a little.
“You didn't have to bake a cake, Daisy. Not that I'm complaining. But that's a huge box. It looks like it was a lot of work.”
I looked down at the box in my lap. It was a huge box and it had been a lot of work. Not on the level of a custom cake for two hundred, but still, it had been extra time on what was supposed to be my afternoon off. I didn't mind.
I wasn't always confident in myself, but I was definitely confident in my baking, and I wasn't showing up to dinner at Heartstone Manor empty-handed. I didn't trust myself to pick out wine and I doubted they needed more flowers, but I was sure I could make a good impression with a chocolate cake.
I wasn't just depending on the cake. For the first time in what felt like forever, I'd put serious time into the way I looked. I'd bought the dress a year before after I fell in love with it in a boutique in Asheville. I didn't have anywhere to wear a fancy cocktail dress or the shoes that went with it. J.T. had talked me into getting it anyway. For the first time, I was relieved I'd spent the money.
Tonight, instead of dragging my hair back into a poof or bun like I usually did, I'd loaded it down with product after my shower, carefully separating each curl, and going to work with my diffuser, J.T. helping on the back because—let's face it—I am not a pro with the diffuser.
I looked my best, and I was loaded down with a killer cake, but still, I was nervous.
Royal knew. He reached over and closed his hand around mine, squeezing. “Don't worry about dinner, Daisy. I'm not going to let them scare you off. Anyway, most of my family is pretty cool. And you're bringing cake so it's pretty much guaranteed they'll like you better than they like me.”
“I've found cake is a pretty good icebreaker.” It was true. Except for those rare people who didn't like sweets, but I pretended those people didn't exist. I'm suspicious of anyone who can't be won over with chocolate.
Royal turned onto the long drive to Heartstone Manor. Oak trees lined the road, their arching branches creating a green tunnel. I could see evidence here and there of landscaping work in progress. In some spots the trees were surrounded by beds of dark mulch, the grass neatly trimmed. In others the forest pressed to the road, weeds chewing at the crumbling asphalt on the edges.
The front courtyard wasn't landscaped, but here every weed had been banished, leaving the grand house bare of adornment and that much more intimidating.
Royal parked at the front. “Stay there,” he ordered, getting out. I didn't argue. I was too busy staring up at the front of Heartstone Manor. Three stories tall, the Manor was made of granite, softened by the ivy climbing the walls at the corners. The front door was huge, iron-strapped wood with heavy iron handles I'd bet it took two hands to turn.
My door opened and Royal leaned down to take the cake box from my lap, handling it carefully. We climbed the steps and walked through Heartstone's big wooden door into a whirlwind. Voices carried into the hallway, a man saying something that sounded like, “—too salty,” and a woman, irate, “If I hear one more complaint out of you, Finn Sawyer—”
They came into view, the man tall, dark-haired, and undoubtedly one of Royal's siblings. He strode across the entry hall, hand held up as if to fend off the woman who stalked after him.
Her voice raised in a shout. “Finn, don't you walk away from me!” I thought she'd storm after him and out of sight, but she drew to an abrupt halt when she spotted us standing there.
“Please, tell me the cook didn't quit,” Royal said.
“Not yet, but if Finn doesn't keep his mouth shut, and she walks out—” She let out a breath, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “Well, I was going to say I'd kill him in his sleep, but I think Griffen said something about making him pitch a tent in the woods. Or just kicking him out.”