Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I rub my temple harder. “Yay. A riddle.”
One that I’m thankfully saved from having to solve, as my father and Colin join us in the living room. Both men stop in their tracks when they see the two of us. Well, specifically me, and my not so pretty tear-stained face.
“What’s wrong?” Dad asks in alarm.
“Hormones. I’m on my period,” I say automatically, knowing from past experience there’s no quicker way to get my dad to stop asking questions and back far, far away from the conversation.
As expected, his eyes go slightly wide, and he gives an awkward nod before making a beeline for the bar.
Colin, however, isn’t so easily put off. His eyes narrow on me slightly. I try to hold his gaze and adopt a breezy expression, as though it really is just a rogue hormonal fluctuation at work, but the second our eyes lock, I realize my mistake and look away.
I don’t have his protective turtle shell. I’m not at all sure that he won’t be able to look into my eyes and know every single emotion running through me. Emotions that I’m positive he wants nothing to do with.
My mother’s mundane small talk, once the object of my disdain, is my saving grace, and I start to breathe a little easier. The four of us sit in the parlor and conversation turns toward safer topics like the unseasonable snow expected for the week ahead, and whether or not they’ll have more trick-or-treaters this year than last year.
At least, I think I’m safe. But when I finally manage to risk a glance at Colin, my breath goes haywire all over again, because he’s watching me. Based on the intensity of his gaze, I’m not sure he’s ever stopped watching me.
My mother’s words from just minutes before drift back to me.
I see you seeing each other.
What do you know? I solved the riddle after all.
The question is … what do I do with the answer?
Chapter 31
Thursday, October 29
A few days later, I’m on all fours with my ass in the air when Colin comes home.
It’s not what it sounds like.
“Charlotte?”
I jump at the unexpected voice, bumping my head on the bottom of the desk and slumping back down with a groan as I put a hand to my throbbing skull.
“Damn it.” His voice is more urgent now as he crosses the room and crouches down. “Charlotte.”
I grunt and open one eye, still cradling my skull. “What.”
“What are you doing under there?” His tone is slightly chiding, but his eyes are concerned, his touch gentle as his fingers brush over my hair. “Are you okay?”
“Go away.”
“You’re so damn hardheaded, I’m surprised the desk didn’t crack. How many fingers am I holding up?”
“I know how many I’m holding up,” I say, pulling my hand away from my head to hold up my middle finger.
“Nice. Come on,” he says, wrapping his hands around my upper arm and tugging me out from under the desk. “Dare I ask what you’re doing on the floor?”
“I was plugging in your new desk lamp.”
I let him haul me to my feet, but I bat his hands away when he begins messing up my hair looking for a lump on my head. “Stop. I’m fine. I spent forever getting my hair to look like this, and you’re messing it up.”
“It looks the same as it always does,” he says, giving my hair a skeptical look.
“You’re such a guy. I straightened it more than usual. The straight hair says that I’m a respectable professional with a side of doting wife.”
“I see. What did your old hair say?”
“Sassy entrepreneur who wasn’t about to be pinned down by a male.”
He looks again at my hair then shakes his head. “Nope. I didn’t get any of that.”
“You look nice, Charlotte,” I mutter. “Thanks for setting up my office, Charlotte. We’re going to nail this interview, Charlotte.”
Colin looks around the room, seeming to see it for the first time, a surprised look on his face. “How long have I been gone? It doesn’t even look like the same room.”
I bend my knees in a quick curtsy. “That’s the other thing this hairdo says: home decorator extraordinaire.”
Actually, I didn’t do much of the real work. I had one set of movers come by at ten a.m. to haul away all the bedroom furniture that was in here. At eleven a.m., Colin’s antique desk was delivered. After forty-five minutes of me freeing the damn thing from the miles and miles of bubble wrap it was wrapped in, the second set of movers arrived with the rest of the office furniture: an ergonomic desk chair, a couple of navy wingback chairs, an end table, copper bar cart, bookshelf, an antique globe, and even a Ficus.
I check my watch. We have an hour until Gordon Price gets here for the home interview, and the butterflies I’ve kept at bay all day by staying busy with changing my bedroom into a home office start to flutter.