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)
“Why don’t you just let me and Dad deal with it?”
“Because you’ll deal with it wrong.”
The man was a control freak.
“All right,” I said, holding up my hands. Arguing with him wasn’t going to get me anywhere. “I’ll do as you say.”
He nodded. “Good. By the way, Patricia made a cheesecake this morning. It’s in the fridge. You should take a slice back to the cottage for Chloe.”
“Why would I do that? She doesn’t like cheesecake.”
Gramps paused. “Yes, she does. She used to take it whenever I brought it in for her.”
I eyed him. “Really? She hates cream cheese. Melody brought a small cheesecake in for Daniel’s birthday because it’s his favourite, and Chloe passed, citing that as the reason.”
“Damn it. She’s too nice for her own good.” He huffed. “There goes my plan to make you seem like a thoughtful man by bringing her a slice.”
I shook my head. “Just go back to London, Gramps, and take your little Cupid’s bow with you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – THEO
Pixel Chickens
I pushed open the door to the cottage and stepped inside to the sound of Chloe shouting, “Fuck you, Abigail!”
Who the fuck was Abigail and what had she done to Chloe?
“That was my damn straw hat!”
I kicked off my shoes, frowning. Straw hat? What the hell was she doing in there?
“Screw you, too, Lewis! If that bush wasn’t in my way, I’d definitely have won the stupid egg hunt!”
Seriously.
What the hell was she doing?
“Stupid eggs. Stupid bushes. Stupid little stones I can’t walk over,” Chloe continued. “No, you can’t sleep. I don’t care if you’re tired. Plant the strawberries first.”
I crept towards the living room and poked my head in. She was sitting on the sofa with a laptop I’d never seen before, using the area where the trackpad was as a mousepad for a bright pink mouse.
“Oh, balls, I forgot to pet my cat.”
What the—
“Five hundred gold? What a load of shit,” she mumbled, picking up a stemless wine-glass-shaped tumbler and sipping. “Great. Now I’m out of wine.”
“Want me to get you some more?”
“Eek!” She knocked her mouse off her laptop and sent it flying to the other side of the sofa. “Where the hell did you come from?”
I chuckled at her wide-eyed expression. “The front door. Did you think I crept in through the window?”
“I didn’t hear you come in. You should have announced yourself.”
“I was going to, but I was wondering if I’d find out who Abigail is and what she’s done to you if I didn’t say anything.”
Chloe pressed her lips together. “Please pretend you didn’t hear any of that.”
“I’ll fill your cup for you.” I motioned for her to hand it to me. “And I’ll consider it.”
She groaned, passing me the insulated tumbler. “All right.”
“Don’t forget to pet your cat,” I said, grinning as I walked to the kitchen.
“Aghhhh!”
I laughed and filled her cup. I put the bottle back in the fridge and grabbed a can of beer for myself before taking both drinks back through to the living room. I leant on the back of the sofa and peered over Chloe’s shoulder at her laptop screen, frowning at the pixelated game she was happily playing.
“What are you playing?” I asked.
“Um, Stardew Valley.” She reached back and took the cup from me. “Thanks.”
“What the heck is Stardew Valley?”
“The most obsessive time suck of a game outside of The Sims franchise,” she replied without missing a beat.
“Is that what you were yelling at when I came in?”
“Um.” She coughed, before quickly dropping her left hand back to the keyboard, focusing it on the W-A-S-D keys. “Yes. There’s a festival each spring that represents Easter with an egg hunt, and if you win, you get a straw hat.”
“Right,” I said slowly. “But it sounds like you lost.”
“There’s no need to rub it in. I’m a bit salty about it. I got stuck behind a bush and Abigail beat me, the bitch.”
“You do realise you’re angry at a pixelated person, don’t you?”
She hit a button, bringing up a menu, and turned her face back to look at me. “If you think this is bad, you’ve clearly never seen Harvey playing Call of Duty.”
Actually, I had. He’d tried to get me into it during our university years, but… “That’s an excellent point. At the very least, I suppose you aren’t here swearing at real people.”
“Exactly.” She whipped her head back around and backed out of the menu, opening up her farm again. “No, come here, you stupid chicken. Let me love you.”
“This is fascinating,” I said as a little heart popped up above a white pixel chicken’s head.
“What is?”
“I never took you for a gamer.”
“I’m a hardcore gamer. If by hardcore you mean I raise pixel animals, plant pixel vegetables, and mod out all the things that piss me off, like the combat and fishing minigame.” She sighed. “That fishing minigame was made by Satan himself.”