Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
He slipped his phone into his pocket, hanging his head. “That was Laura. One of my tenants just tried to hang a picture and somehow drilled into a wire. They have no power now.”
“Oh dear.”
He stepped back, and I missed his warmth right away. “I have to go look and call Fred, the local electrician. He’s not gonna be happy.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “He can join the club.”
“Probably best, though,” I whispered, my voice raspy-sounding.
“I can’t say I entirely agree, but perhaps.”
He bent and kissed me again, his hand once more going to my nape and cupping my head. “I could just make them wait a bit.”
I laughed, knowing he didn’t mean it. “Go do your landlord duties.”
“If you want to pull a couple wires later…” He trailed off with a wink.
He made me laugh, and I was glad when he joined in.
“Okay, I’ll go.” He stood straight with a sigh, opening the door. “But we’re not finished, Quinn. Not by a long shot.”
Then he was gone.
I didn’t hear from him that night or the next day. Part of me was disappointed, although I had no claims on him or his time. I knew he was a busy man with his farm, his leases, and whatever else he did. Which, around here, seemed to be a lot. I heard his name often, dropped into conversations at the restaurant.
“We should ask John about that.”
“John helped on that house. He’d know.”
“I can already taste John’s corn. I can hardly wait until harvest time.”
“You heard about his plans for the old school? He’s always thinking ahead. It’ll be good for the town. Maybe bring in another new business. I sure like this one.”
That remark made me smile. The restaurant was doing well. My divorce money had come in, as well as Preston’s guilt money for deserting Abby. At least, that was what I called it. His lawyer termed it a lump sum payment in lieu of child support. Either way, we would have no contact anymore. He wanted no information, pictures, or chances to visit or know his daughter. He even hinted she might not be his and I should be grateful for his generosity. It took every ounce of strength I had not to retaliate. My lawyer had kept me calm, and I’d simply shaken my head. “Get a DNA test, then,” I murmured. “She has your color eyes.”
He had shaken his head. “I just want this over.”
Of course he did. That was why it finally happened. He’d met someone new, someone more worthy of his social standing and lifestyle. He wanted to be free, and he was willing to pay handsomely for me to go away.
I was willing to take the money and no longer be subjected to him.
And now, I could buy the building and truly call it my own. I would stay in the small house I was renting for now. We liked it, and it was all we needed.
I came out of the kitchen toward the end of the day, smiling and filling a few coffee cups, and carrying the tray to clear the last couple of tables. The bell rang, and I forced myself to smile as I looked up, hoping it would be a takeout order or someone looking for something simple. It had been a busy day, and I wanted to go get Abby and head home.
John stood in the doorway, his massive shoulders almost blocking the light. He hesitated, looking around, then he met my gaze, and a smile broke out on his face.
My God, he was handsome when he smiled. His lips curled, revealing straight white teeth. His eyes crinkled, the blue of his irises still visible in his tanned face. His dimples appeared, and he had laugh lines that made him even more attractive somehow.
He shut the door, coming closer. “I know it’s late, Quinn. I was wondering about getting a sandwich?”
Up close, I could see he was tired. Weariness was etched on his skin, and his eyes were dimmer than usual.
“Of course. We’re still open for another forty-five minutes. Anything you want.”
“Coffee would be great. And whatever you have left.”
“Sit down,” I instructed. “I’ll bring you something,” I offered, wondering why my voice was so husky-sounding.
He lifted his eyebrows, his gaze focused on my mouth. “Great. Anything you give me, I’ll take.”
I had to fan myself in the kitchen after I set down a cup of coffee for him. Clint, the cook, looked up. “I heard John’s voice. What do you need?”
“What do we have left?”
“Soup. Sandwich fixings. Anything frozen. I haven’t turned off the fryers.”
“No, he needs something solid. Do a big bowl of soup and a grilled bacon and cheese sandwich. Triple-decker with tomatoes.”
“Done.”
I grabbed the last salad and a large glass of ice water. I had noticed John liked his beverages cold. I added ranch to his salad, already knowing that was his favorite dressing, and went out front. Chloe was cleaning off the last of the tables, and aside from John, there was a table of four older men who came in most days for pie and coffee.