Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
I furrowed my brow, clandestinely eyeing Cameron as I made a few notes on my clipboard. The deep timbre of his voice and the smell of earth and sunshine sparked a memory I couldn’t quite access. I knew it couldn’t have been through a book or a photo now. No. We’d met somewhere.
Problem…I didn’t see how that was possible. He was new in town and I’d never been west of Las Vegas, so it had to be somewhere around here. But I’d remember that face. C’mon, he was fuckin’ hot. Like a sexy bear.
Maybe it was dark. Hmm.
“Skinny? I don’t think so.” But he was right…Santa was a bit of a stretch. I was tall with short brown hair and hazel eyes. “My mom stuffs the suit and puts some powder in my beard. It’s just enough to pass muster and keep the bingo patrons happy.”
“You should be awarded son of the year.”
I squinted when he let out another low, sexy chuckle I’d swear I’d heard before as if that might help place him.
Laughter in the dark…
“Definitely,” I replied after a few seconds. “It’s my one and only act of holiday spirit and since I’ve never successfully gotten out of it, I’ve decided to embrace it. I don’t put up a tree or bother with any of the trimmings, and the only person I have to shop for is my mother, so it’s not all that bad.”
“Not bad at all,” Cameron agreed.
I stepped aside, scribbling nonsense on the pad while wracking my brain. Nothing fit. He was new, he was famous, and this was a small town. If we’d met it had to be somewhere obvious. Supermarket, liquor store, gas station…
Nothing rang a bell. I could either let it go or…do some basic sleuthing.
“So…how long have you been in Fallbrook? I mean, I heard you bought this place a year ago, but you just moved in, right?”
“Two months ago. The leaves were changing and the setting couldn’t have been more perfect,” he gushed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.
Gray sweats and a button-down chambray shirt weren’t a sexy combo any day of the week, but he rocked it. The grays and blues complemented his eyes and hair and—fuck, what was wrong with me? I was the last person to offer fashion commentary. My wardrobe consisted of plaid shirts and jeans. Period.
Obviously, I was low-grade attracted to this guy. Totally understandable. He was a good-looking dude, and I’d always had a thing for older men…and women, but I didn’t make a habit of ogling prospective clients. I nodded absently as Cameron compared the eighty-degree temps in San Diego in October to the canopy of red and orange on the maple trees in his new yard.
I was tempted to keep him talking till I could put the puzzle pieces together, but it was time to refocus, hand over an estimate, and get on with my day.
“This is a nice property, but as with any older home, it needs a few repairs. The porch stairs and banister should be replaced as well as the bottom steps in the basement. And you have some water damage. The casing on this window and the one downstairs should be seen to also. I recommend having a roofer check for leaks. I can send Tony by if you’d like. He’s trustworthy. And I can take care of any woodwork reparations for you.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it,” he said.
I tilted my chin in acknowledgment and continued, “This house has good bones and—”
I froze when he pushed his hand through his silver-streaked hair.
Warning bells chimed and echoed in my ear. Yeah, I’d been here before. Not here, inside this house, but with him.
I knew him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling me from my reverie.
“I’m fine. I was thinking…you looked very familiar.”
Cameron smiled warmly. “Do you read mystery and suspense novels?”
I slipped my pen into the inside pocket of my jacket, shaking my head as I sauntered to the door. “Your aunt told me you’re a writer, but I don’t think that’s it.”
“Hmm.”
His low hum reverberated around the room, wrapping me in a cocoon reminiscent of the seductive tangle of arms and the bite of hands holding me steady as—
Holy shit.
Elmwood, dark bar, bad music, good whisky, bathroom, parking lot, and…
Oh. Wow.
He was different yet the same. I’d thought he was handsome that night, but he was hotter than I’d remembered. Of course, I was stone-cold sober now and it was broad daylight. Had he mentioned he was a famous author? Probably not. Had I bothered to ask what he did for a living in the first place? Also…probably not. I hadn’t been looking for a new friend. I had enough of those. I’d wanted something gritty and anonymous, and this man had checked every damn box.
If it was him.