Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“I’m sure you can.” Rich brown eyes cast a curious glint as they search my features, as if he can hear my unspoken thoughts. “I need a fridge. This one’s nice.” He smooths a manicured hand over the mint-green ’60s retro-style model. But I note the scabbed-over cut on his index finger and the callus on his thumb. So, he gets his hands dirty, but also knows how to get them clean. My dream combo. As is the fact that he towers over me and wears a sexy, thin layer of scruff over a square jaw. His entire look is curated, from his loosely styled chestnut-brown hair down to his gray suede Chelsea boots.
“Yeah, this one draws a lot of attention.”
“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?”
“But, it’s seven grand, plus taxes and delivery.”
He lets out a low whistle. “More than I wanted to spend on an appliance today.”
I scan the guy’s outfit. He doesn’t mind spending money on clothes. “Also, it’ll take four to six weeks to arrive, from recent experience.”
He grimaces and somehow still looks gorgeous. “I just need something basic and cheap. Even a floor model would be fine.”
“We have a few of those. I can also show you options that will come quickly.” Like I would with this guy’s hands on me, I’m sure. I duck to hide my smile as I shrug off my coat and toss it onto a nearby stove. Scarlet is going to die when I tell her this story later.
Hot Guy’s gaze drags over the length of my fitted sweater and wool leggings, down to my adorable Sorels, before rising again, a secretive flicker dancing in his eyes. One of attraction and dirty promises, the same kind inundating my thoughts.
My insides flutter. Bill was the only one who could stir this feeling in me with just a look—until now. “I’m Justine.”
“Garrett.”
“Nice to meet you. This way.” I nod toward the cluster of refrigerators.
He falls into step beside me, his stride long and leisurely.
I catch a hint of his cologne—a warm medley of cloves, orange, and vanilla. It’s masculine and yet soft, and it’s my new favorite scent.
“How long has this place been here?” he asks, studying the twenty-foot-tall ceiling.
“Seventy years. Family owned since day one.”
“Wow. Gotta say, don’t see too many independent stores like this anymore.” He pauses. “How’s business?”
“Great!” I lie. “Murphy’s is well established.”
“Seventy years,” he echoes.
“Exactly. And local folks take pride in supporting their own. This entire block on Main is made up of long-running businesses. Well, except for the cupcake store. She’s new.” I drop my voice. “And not going to last long, if you ask me.” Bethany’s notorious for mixing up orders and, according to Todd, never pays rent on time. “Dieter’s next door? That’s been there since the 1920s. It’s the longest-standing business in Polson Falls. Isn’t that wild?”
Garrett whistles. “Gotta love history like that.”
“Right? Here, this one’s very basic, and it’s twenty-five percent off.” I make a spectacle of presenting the Maytag fridge, Vanna White–style. “And you can take it now, if you have help, or we can set up delivery for you. We have a guy.” Does Garrett know many people in town? “Say, when did you move to Polson Falls?”
“Still in the process.” He opens the fridge door and peers inside. “How do you know I’m not from around here?”
“’Cause I’ve never seen you, and I would remember.” He hasn’t been to Route 66 on a Friday or Saturday night.
“Is that so?” His smile is crooked. “When’d you leave Boston?”
I grin. Though mild, my accent is a dead giveaway. “At eighteen. But I’ve been in New Jersey for the last twelve or so years. Newark, mainly.”
“I know Newark.” He acknowledges with a nod. “I grew up in Manhattan.”
“That explains the vibe.”
He leans against a nearby side-by-side, folding his arms across his chest, as if he’s settling in for a conversation. The heavy wool material stretches, highlighting cut biceps. “What brought you to Polson Falls?”
“My best friend. She lives here, and I needed a change after I caught my now ex-boyfriend with his pants down, so to speak.” Perhaps too much information, but I’m an oversharer, and I’ve just announced to Garrett that I’m single. “What would make you leave New York City for this little Pennsylvania town?” There’s only one explanation I can think of. “Wife? Girlfriend?” I check his ring finger. No band.
He smiles, noticing my not-so-sly fishing expedition. “Neither. My uncle. He’s getting up there, and he wants my help, so I’ll be in between a few places for a bit.”
“That’s very … sweet of you.” And unexpected.
He waves it off. “I like the atmosphere here so far. Way more relaxed.” He pauses, his gaze drifting around the quiet store. “So, I’m guessing you’re not a Murphy?”
“No, I’m a MacDermott. No relation.”