Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
I reach out and snatch the receiver up, putting it to my ear with my heart pounding.
“Hello?” I ask, finding my throat dry and my voice high again.
“Hello,” someone says. Casting my memory back, I’m sure I recognize the voice of the woman who checked me in at reception yesterday. “This Alana Covington, isn’t it?”
“Um, yes,” I say.
“There’s a guest here in reception to see you.”
“A guest?” I ask, frowning.
“That’s right. So, if you wouldn’t mind, please come to meet him immediately.”
There’s a click as the line disconnects.
That's it?
Isn’t she going to give me any more information?
I frown to myself, trying to think.
I don’t even know anyone here. Unless somehow, my dad or someone else in my family set up a surprise for me? A visit from one of them? A long-distant relative to meet me in my quest to reconnect with my roots? A surprise tour?
Or…
Or could it be Finlay?
The thought makes my heart race so fast in my chest that I think I’m going to pass out for a moment. Instead, I leap to my feet and check my reflection quickly in the full-length mirror hidden inside the wardrobe.
I look good – or so I think.
I put on the flirtiest dress I brought with me this morning, even if I had to pair it with wooly leggings and a big, chunky knit cardigan for warmth.
I thought there might be a possibility of meeting him after I called, but I hadn’t expected this but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I was ready to see him if he was truly here.
I grab my purse, cell phone, and my room’s key card and slip outside into the hall. I don’t wait for the elevator but instead begin racing toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Right at the bottom, I pause before I emerge from the doors that lead into the lobby. I smooth my hands over my blonde hair, take a breath so I won’t appear flustered, and then walk out, casually, as if I’m not nervous at all to see who it is.
As I do so, my heart sank.
There is a strange man standing at the reception desk, an older man with a large paunch belly who is flipping through one of the leaflets from the rack.
It really is some kind of surprise. Just not the one I wanted at all.
I take another deep breath and carry on walking forward, ready to introduce myself and see what’s in store for me – but as I do so, my view of the rest of the lobby area opens up, and….
And there he is, leaning against the back wall with his arms folded over his chest.
Finlay.
“Hi!” I exclaim, breathless, my heart rising from my boots to my throat so fast I almost choke.
The mere sight of him has me on fire.
He’s dressed all in black clothes again today, and I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.
They clearly aren’t cheap, the clothes' cuts, and the fabric's thickness. Finlay looks like a Laird, even in a dark turtleneck, black jeans, and those dark eyes. When they focused on me, they almost turn me into Jell-o.
“Hi,” he replies, his voice smooth and deep, so unlike my own nervous and breathless voice. “I hope you don’t mind me checking in on you. After yesterday, I was worried.”
“I’m really fine,” I assure him before panic flits through my mind that I just told him, in some way, to leave me alone. “I mean, it’s really nice of you to check on me. Actually, I was thinking about you this morning.”
“Oh, really?” Finlay says, raising an eyebrow. His voice is practically a purr, like the sound of a classic car engine.
“I-I mean!” I stammer, panicking once again. “I was thinking about the estate! Yes, the estate. Um. I called Hamish – well, I called the estate, and Hamish answered. He had no idea who I was, so I think I confused him.”
“What were you going to say if you managed to get through to me?” Finlay asks with a raised eyebrow. The way he seems to be taking all of this so cooly only makes the fact that I know my cheeks are bright red even worse.
“Um, I was going to ask about the deer,” I say. “We were going to look at them, but we didn’t manage to. I mean – we saw them, but that wasn’t the same. And I wanted to know if they were all okay.”
Finlay blinks as if surprised and then nods his head. “Yes, of course. They’re all fine. I managed to track down all of them last night, and there weren’t any signs that those poachers managed to take one down – not even smaller animals. We must have stumbled on them right on time.”