Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Then Eve came along, and the need to expand ate away at me until I did it. What else was I going to do with my spare time anyway? I did most of the work myself, but I called in for a few things that required a skill level a bit greater than mine. I used contractors from the town over, not wanting to draw attention to myself from Snow Hills. I put three more bedrooms and a couple bathrooms up there and a small lounge area.
“It’s so modern. Did you decorate it?”
“This is considered decorated?” Now I’m glancing around. The inside is modern. The cabin was brand new when I moved in. I’d updated some things, but the walls are bare, the light gray paint being the only decor.
“I guess not decorated but staged?”
“Staged?” I have no clue what that means.
“Like you plucked it out of a home and garden magazine.” She walks around, her eyes going big when she sees the kitchen, which is open to the living room. The whole main floor is set up that way. I’m not sure why she’d be excited over a kitchen. She doesn’t cook. Not that I’m aware of, at least.
“I suppose it kind of is. Pottery Barn.”
“Pottery Barn?” She laughs.
“It was easy.” I shrug. They had things in sets, and they reminded me a bit of her place. I know she’s ordered from there too.
“I’ve wanted this chair!” She rushes over to the chair in the corner of the room next to the fireplace. It swings. I know it’s sturdy, but I’ve never tried to sit in the thing myself. “This is the kind of chair you read in.” She sways back and forth in it. The chair is no coincidence.
“You didn’t eat much tonight. I’ll make you something.” I head toward the kitchen. She needs to eat, and I need to kill time as the snow grows thicker outside. The longer she stays distracted, the better the chance I have of keeping her here with me for a few days.
“You cook?” She sways in the chair.
“How else would I feed myself?”
“Right. You never come to town to eat. You know the diner is really good.” It must be. She eats most of her meals from there. Eve gets up from the chair as I start to pull items out of the fridge. “Whatcha making?” She eyes what I’ve laid out on the kitchen island.
“Chicken marsala.” Her whole face lights, and she says what I know she is going to. “That’s my favorite!”
I know. I always know when it comes to my angel.
6
Eve
“Who taught you to cook like this?” I take another giant bite of the chicken marsala. I don’t think I’ve ever had one this good before, and I order it on any menu if I see it.
“The Internet.” I burst into laughter. Maroc’s lips twitch. “I thought you’d say your mom or something.” For some reason, I can’t see Marco searching for recipes on the Internet.
“I don’t have one of those.”
“Oh.” Shit. How do you respond to that? “A father?” He shakes his head no. Double shit.
“Don’t feel bad for me. I barely remember them. How about you?” I stare into his eyes for a long moment. He might not remember them too well, but they’re there somewhere in his mind.
“I’ve got both of mine.”
“But you never go home for the holidays.” He says it as if he knows this for a fact.
“Keeping tabs on me?” I raise an eyebrow in question. How does he know when I go back home? It seems Marco keeps a tighter watch on Snow Hills than any of us really know.
“I notice things.” I bet he does. Marco is the kind of man that watches. It makes me curious to know if he’s always been that way. I’ve only learned he really talked today.
“The holidays were never big for us.” I shrug to downplay it. That’s what I always told myself growing up.
One holiday my parents didn’t bother to pick me up, having forgotten altogether that it was Thanksgiving weekend. I ended up spending the weekend with one of my teachers at the boarding school. My parents never even acknowledged that they forgot me and missed Thanksgiving that year, but I hadn’t been shocked. So many of the other girls would get care packages and small things sent to them. I never did unless it was something I specifically requested.
“Both of my parents are lawyers. They’re busy.” They aren’t just any lawyers; they're big-time trial lawyers. The kind that are very sought after. Which means they never really had time for children. Pretty sure I was an oops baby.
“Interesting.” He takes a bite of his own food.
“Why is that interesting?”
“You got your degree in criminal justice, but you didn’t go on to law school.” I didn’t think he could surprise me anymore tonight, but that’s exactly what his words do. This man sure knows a lot about me. That should probably frighten me, but it does the exact opposite.