The Woman by the Lake (Misted Pines #3) Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Misted Pines Series by Kristen Ashley
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
<<<<162634353637384656>137
Advertisement


He took a sip and said to the lake, “If there were tracks, rain washed them away.”

“Figures,” I grumbled and took my own sip.

“Kids get up to stupid shit,” he noted.

“My exact thinking,” I replied, and it was, because if Riggs had learned about me, and Kimmy had guessed I was at this cabin, then that meant it was official.

Word had gotten around.

I was now glaring at the lake again, but I knew he’d turned to look at me when he asked, “How pissed are you?”

I turned to look at him. “On a scale of someone running through my yard being a one, and someone keeping me up all night with metal music and lake frolicking a ten, I’m at about a two-hundred-and-seventeen.”

He grinned at me, then took another sip.

“This isn’t funny, Riggs.”

“Nope,” he agreed. “And I’m gonna talk to Dave about installing some cameras so we can catch these fuckers, and they better hope I’m in the mood to turn over whatever video we get to Harry instead of acting on my own, because I reckon I’ll be more in the mood to knock some goddamn heads together.”

At that, I grunted unintelligibly, but even so, it was in accord.

But something he said struck me, so I asked, “Harry?”

“Moran. The county sheriff and a good friend of mine.”

Excellent.

It was good to know people in high places.

“Gotta head out soon to get my kid. Rain lets up, me and Ledge are going fishing today. Wanna come with?” he offered.

“Now offer me the alternate option of having my nails pulled out at the roots so I can enjoy your shock and amazement at which one I pick.”

He chuckled, looked to the lake and took another sip before asking, “Not a fisherwoman?”

“Any time I even consider how meat in whatever form comes to me, I consider vegetarianism. I’ve even tried to go that route. Twice. The smell of bacon always foils me. I gave up and just ignore that a creature gave its life to nurture mine.”

“I’m taking that as a no.”

“Good take.”

“Ledge sucks hard at fishing, and so he won’t feel like a loser, I go that route. So I’ll be frying up some brats tonight. Wanna come for dinner?”

That was an invitation I could accept, so I did.

“Sure, I’d love that.”

“I’ll call Dave sometime during the day and install those cameras as soon as I can source them.”

“Awesome.”

“Honey?”

I turned to him.

He pointed at the lake. “That’s our lake.” He aimed his finger down. “This is our home. No one fucks with us on our patch. You with me?”

I was suddenly lamenting him not being a dick. No one wanted to live close to a dick. But I was finding it was worse living next to a really great guy who was beautiful, could be protective, and tramped over to your cabin to wander around in the drizzle, looking for the footprints of some probably high school punks who were playing a prank.

With all that, and what he just said, and the power behind the words when he said them, which told me he meant them, I knew my dedulya, who had liked Trevor, would love this guy.

“I’m with you.”

“People around here, we take our privacy seriously,” he informed me. “So much, recently, the town council hiked up fines and even added jail time for trespassers. It’s minimal, but it’s still a strong deterrent. I don’t have fences up, but got signs all over the property, and you can’t miss them. We catch someone doing this shit, they’re gonna pay, honey. Literally.”

He watched me nod before he threw back more coffee, came in, slid his rough, yet sweet whiskers along my cheek in what he clearly had no idea was a cruel tease, pulled away and urged, “Keep the faith.”

“Right.”

He put his coffee mug down, got up, went to his wet jacket, shrugged it on, and with a chin lift to me, he tramped into the woods.

The rain didn’t let up all day.

Sometimes it came harder than others, but even if it was just a trickle, it came.

I felt bad the Riggs boys weren’t going to get to go fishing.

But I felt kind of excited that afternoon that I could don the cute, pink slicker I’d bought before I came there, the hiking boots I already had, but had used minimally, and I headed out.

I looked where Riggs looked earlier, at the side of the cabin, on the stable trail and around the stable area, but I saw what he probably saw.

A bunch of earth that was smooth, wet through, and I knew that because, in some parts the water on top of it gently washed down toward the lake.

I then took the trail that Roosevelt probably cut, but it was Riggs running it that kept it clear, and for the first time, began to make my way around the lake.



<<<<162634353637384656>137

Advertisement