Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Mm, it’s a bit chilly.” He pulled his mug from under the machine and walked over to the table. “Have you finished the report?”
“Yes. Want me to email it to you?”
“No, I’ll just be tempted to work, and I’m trying to find some balance.” He sipped. “Have you seen the lettings office in person yet?”
I peered up at him. “That doesn’t sound like a question someone trying to find some work-life balance should be asking.”
He pressed his lips together. “You’re right.”
“You should also put on a t-shirt.”
“I’m good.”
“I’m not.”
“Am I that bad to look at?” There was an almost playful glint in his eye.
“I believe it was only yesterday I was telling you I’d be horrified to see you naked. My position has not changed since then,” I replied, closing down what I’d been working on. “We’ve also discussed this several times. If I’m wearing a bra, you should be wearing a shirt.”
“Are you wearing a bra?”
“It’s so cold that I can guarantee you’d know if I wasn’t.”
Theodore dropped his gaze to my chest before quickly raising it up again. “Excellent point.”
“Please put on a t-shirt and refrain from ogling my chest.”
“Forgive me. It was a reflex.” He chuckled and took a step back. “Fine, I’ll go put on a t-shirt in a minute. What are you looking at there?”
“Where?” I jerked my attention back to my laptop and paused. “Oh. I was doing some research on the area. I was thinking about getting out and doing something today.”
“Weren’t you just complaining it was cold?”
“If the cold stopped me leaving the house, you’d get no work done all winter,” I pointed out as a knock sounded from the direction of the front door. “Uh, are we expecting Auntie Pat today?”
Theodore shook his head. “No. It might be the postman, though.”
I didn’t know we were getting post here.
“I guess I’ll get it, then. You’re not exactly dressed for visitors.” I hopped up from the table and walked through the cottage to the front door, then opened it. “Hell—oh, my God.”
Charles Black, the Duke of Ruxleigh, beamed at me from the doorstep. “Good morning, dear.”
I blinked at him for a moment before shaking my head. “Your Grace? What are you doing here?”
“Never mind that, let me in. It’s ruddy cold out there.”
“I—sure, sure,” I said, more than a little bewildered by his sudden appearance. “Come on in. Can I get you some tea?”
“Tea sounds smashing. Make that rotten git of a grandson of mine do it instead, though.”
I pushed the door closed behind him as he shrugged off his coat and scarf and hung them up on the empty hook. “Didn’t we just speak on the phone yesterday afternoon? How did you get here so quickly?”
“I got on the train shortly after we got off the phone yesterday. I haven’t been here for a couple of months and wanted to see how the renovations at the manor house are coming along.”
Right. I vaguely recalled him mentioning that Buckley House was undergoing some renovations before it re-opened for some public tours during the summer.
Did checking on that really require him to come in person, though? No. No, it did not.
“Also, I knew that bugger wouldn’t call me,” Charles continued. “So, I came in person.”
That was more like it.
“Chloe, who was at the—Gramps?” Theodore froze in the middle of the kitchen, staring at his grandfather with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?”
The duke sniffed. “It’s my estate. Why can’t I be here?”
“I didn’t say that, you crazy old man.”
Ha. It’d been a long time since I’d seen them talk this casually. “Stop being rude and make him a cup of tea,” I said, wiggling my finger at Theodore. “And before you ask, I offered, but he asked that the ‘rotten git of a grandson’ of his makes it.”
Theodore sighed, dropping his chin to his chest. “There’s no escaping the abuse.”
“Abuse? You wanna see abuse, boy? Chloe, pass me that wooden spoon over there.” Charles waved his hand in my direction, glaring at Theodore.
“I’m staying out of this.” I held up my hands and went to sit back at the table. “Argue amongst yourselves, please. And you.” I pointed at Theo. “Put on a t-shirt.”
“Yes, she’s right, Theo. Put on a t-shirt. Nobody wants to see you shirtless.”
Actually, I knew for a fact there were many, many people—men and women alike—who wanted to see Theodore shirtless, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue that fact.
He’d only misconstrue my words as meaning I wanted to see him shirtless and, quite frankly, it didn’t matter whether I wanted to or not.
I was going to, because he was going to wander about without his shirt as he pleased until I told him otherwise.
“I’m putting it on. Jesus.” Theodore pulled a black t-shirt over his head and tugged it down over his stomach. “Are you both happy now?”