Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Like he could open drawers.
He could get into them through the tiniest sliver of a gap, but he couldn’t open them.
Not that I knew of.
No.
That was it.
He wasn’t here.
I was going to have to get dressed and go on yet another search for the little bastard.
Fantastic.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAX
How The Worm Turns
I cradled my cup of tea on the sofa, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, and looked out of the window at the garden.
It was shaping up to be a beautiful day, and I had nothing to do except help Grandma tend to the goats. They needed cleaning out and the farmhand we employed was off gallivanting in Spain this week, so it was down to me.
I didn’t mind. It was hard work, but it wasn’t difficult. The goats would all be sent outside to a secure field so they wouldn’t be munching on my shorts for once which meant I would have the entire barn to get it done.
Edward had offered, but I didn’t mind. He was much older than me, and I’d deliberately kept this day clear of anything other than farm work.
I sipped my tea and looked up when Grandma walked into the room. “Good morning, Grandma.”
“Don’t look at me with that tone of voice,” she warned me, rubbing her temple. “I’m banning gin from the next book club meeting.”
“You won’t.”
“You’re right. I won’t. But Dawn won’t be pouring them anymore.” She sat on the sofa opposite to me and plucked a bit of fluff from her hot pink skirt. “Is there any tea for me?”
Translation: Get me a cup of tea.
I set my cup down with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
“Put it in one of those portable things with a lid. We need to let the goats out, and I don’t want Goatzart thinking it’s his tea.”
“All right. Give me a minute.” I left her alone in the living room and went to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea.
She needed a strong cup, given the gin they’d consumed last night. I didn’t know how she could drink that much—although it was only on book club nights that she drank alcohol at all, so that might have been why.
God knew what’d gotten into them last night. They were usually feisty when discussing books, but Ellie’s presence had taken them into a whole new level of it. I wasn’t ashamed to say that I’d hovered outside the door to listen in after I’d announced her arrival, but now I wished I hadn’t.
Now I knew Ellie watched porn, used a vibrator, and was inspired to write adult scenes based on those two things.
That was more than I wanted to know about her. It was more than I needed to know. I’d spent far too much time last night reliving my teenage boy phase at one in the morning because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
About her.
Watching porn and making herself orgasm.
Just… about her.
This giant fucking pain in the arse woman who’d barrelled into my life with her escapee cat tucked under one arm. I’d tried to stay away from her, but it’d been an exercise in futility. Something drew me to her, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.
It was more than just an attraction, although she was bloody gorgeous.
Maybe it was because she was the exact opposite to me. I was pessimistic—grumpy, if you listened to my grandmother—and I rarely saw the good in things, but Ellie wasn’t like that.
She was always smiling, even when I’d previously been rude to her. Even when she’d gotten lost on the way to Grandma’s cottage, I’d found her with an awkward smile on her face. Last night when faced with May’s mean comments, she’d smiled gracefully and taken it all in her stride.
I bet she was the kind of person who looked out of the window, saw it was raining, and said, “Oh, good! The grass could do with some water!”
I didn’t.
I went, “Oh, it’s fucking raining. Great.”
She was a little ray of brightness in a world I tended to see in shades of grey and black.
It was exactly why I needed to stay away from her, but I wasn’t sure how realistic that was. No matter how hard I tried, she just kept popping up.
I needed to find out how long she was here for.
Maybe Fred wanted a lodger for a few weeks.
I carried Grandma’s travel mug full of tea to the living room for her. She looked over at me, holding my mug, and slowly sipped.
I stared at her.
“You took too long,” she said, finishing the last of my tea. “Ah, you brought mine. Good lad. Let’s go and sort out the goats.”
Sighing, I handed her the one I’d made for her, and with one last forlorn look at my now-empty mug, followed her through to the sunroom and outside.