Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
The man sniffs, pastes on a fake smile and offers a slight bow. “Of course. Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you,” I say and head out of the store.
I make it back to the tea shop just as Tempe is paying for her purchases. I slide in beside her, placing a hand on her hip.
“All good?” she asks, eyeing me curiously.
“Yep, all good,” I reply, peeking into her bag. “Coach just had a question about tomorrow’s strategy.”
She nods, accepting my explanation, and not knowing that Coach would never call me to discuss such a thing. I’m hoping this tiny lie serves the greater good and I’ll apologize for it later.
We leave the shop with her carrying a bag filled with fragrant teas and related paraphernalia.
“While we’re here, I need to find something for Farren,” I say as we walk. “Any ideas?”
Tempe thinks for a moment, then her face lights up. “What about that boutique we passed earlier? They had some funky accessories that would totally suit her style.”
“Lead the way,” I say, relieved to shift the focus from my nonexistent phone call.
Tempe slips her hand in mine, a move that is so new and unique and yet has the blanket of normalcy with it. As we make our way to the boutique, I can’t help but feel the weight of the bracelet in my pocket. It’s not just a piece of jewelry. It’s a message that I take this seriously.
And as I steal glances at Tempe, laughing and pointing out potential gifts for Farren, I realize this Christmas might just be the start of something extraordinary.
We spend another hour in the mall and by the time we’re done, I’m shopped out. Tempe seems equally exhausted as she settles into the passenger seat, connecting her seat belt.
“I’m glad that’s over. Now to the fun part… wrapping.” She wrinkles her nose so I’m guessing that’s not so fun for her.
“You have enough time to do that?” I ask, glancing at my watch. We’re due at Brienne’s party tonight at seven p.m. and it’s already four. We had prearranged for me to pick her up at six thirty.
“I’m efficient,” she quips, giving me a dimpled smirk. “It’s called gift bags.”
Laughing, I lean over and kiss her. “Beautiful and brilliant.”
She sighs, pulling back from me, a dreamy look on her face that tells me she gets as lost as I do. “Well, you’re handsome and charming. So there’s that.”
“There’s that,” I agree. Match made in heaven.
CHAPTER 16
Tempe
When Rafferty pulls up to Brienne Norcross’s home, my breath catches at the spectacular display before us. The mansion, massive and imposing, basks under the glow of thousands of twinkling white lights. Silver-bowed wreaths hang symmetrically in every window and the bushes flanking the grand entrance shimmer with sparkling bulbs, creating a fairy-tale-like atmosphere that rivals the Phipps Conservatory where Stone and Harlow were married.
Stepping out of the car, I clutch my coat against the chilly December air, my eyes wide as I take in the scene. Rafferty, noticing my awe, gives me a knowing smile and offers his arm.
“Pretty spectacular, right?” he murmurs.
“I’ve never been to a house like this. Never known anyone this wealthy. It boggles.”
“Well, as you saw at Stone’s wedding, Brienne is as down-to-earth as they come, so just relax and have fun tonight.”
As we approach the entrance, the grandeur intensifies. The front door opens, a liveried butler awaiting our arrival. Laughter spills out with the sound of Christmas music released into the night. We step inside and are immediately enveloped by the festive cacophony and warmth of the party.
After depositing our coats with the man who opened the door, we walk around the large rooms. The mansion’s interior is even more breathtaking than the outside. Crystal chandeliers dangle from the high ceilings, each one alight with countless Edison bulbs that cast a soft, golden glow over the festivities. The floor beneath our feet is a polished marble mosaic that reflects the twinkling lights and vibrant decorations. Dark, paneled walls lined with elaborate crown moldings are adorned with pine-scented garlands and twinkling fairy lights that snake around the room, adding a magical touch to the already stunning décor.
I soak in every meticulously crafted detail, from the hand-etched trim moldings that depict intricate patterns of flora to the luxurious silk rugs underfoot, each one a splash of color and craftsmanship.
The furniture is all heavy and traditional, richly carved and upholstered in sumptuous fabrics, and looks more like art than seating. Massive oil paintings, each one deserving of a spot in a gallery, hang on the walls, their ornate frames as impressive as the art they enclose. What little I know of Brienne Norcross is that she’s more Renaissance woman than old-fashioned mogul, so it’s hard to imagine her living in what amounts to a museum. Still, it’s beyond magnificent to behold.