Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“I’m a grown man, Felicity. I don’t want to bother them about this one woman unless she gets out of hand. Besides, it’s an extremely small town. There are two freaking deputies and a sheriff. I can’t bother them yet.”
“Understood, Stellan.”
“Thanks, Felicity.”
I ended the call and then thought about getting something to eat. Like a glutton for punishment, I get dressed and go out to main street to dine. I hoped no one recognized me and made a fuss. Even though my hair looked different, and I had shaved off my usual facial hair and put on a cap, I wondered if there were any eagle-eyed photogs nearby.
When I arrive at the nicest restaurant in town, that’s when I spot the jackass, Chet, from the rental place, and there she is, his girlfriend, Georgia. The redhead is sitting across from him. Her mouth opens as her eyes meet mine, but then she returns her attention to her date, who didn’t even notice the momentary gaze because he was playing on his phone.
“I’d like a table away from everyone,” I tell the hostess, removing my hat. Thankfully, there aren’t a lot of people here. Although most eyes are glued to me. Small towns are like that. I hear whispers. Some of them saw me in town as I shopped for my Nana, but we kept my visit quiet. I never want her to be the victim of my celebrity. If the press hound her, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Sure thing, handsome. Anyone else joining you?”
“No.” I sit by myself and then stare at my menu, but my appetite fades as I watch her with him on their date. He’s a prick.
Fuck, I thought she could be a stalker, but in reality, it’s me. She clearly didn’t follow me here. The beautiful woman I’ve spotted all over town has a man, a big, strong, handsome fuck who has his own successful business. There’s nothing that she’d need or want to chase me down for. “You know. I’ll just take my food to go.”
“We don’t normally do that, sir, but for you, we can make that exception.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, stealing a glance toward Georgia. Does she think I’m heartbroken? I’m not hurt. Annoyed? Yes. Heartbroken? Hell no.
It takes about fifteen minutes before my food is ready, and I do my best to keep my head straight forward and avoid stealing any glances at Georgia. When she hands me my food, I pay the check and then leave a large tip for their trouble. As I make my way toward the exit, I stare at her until she finally gives me what I want and turns her head my way. Her man doesn’t even notice our brief exchange because he hasn’t taken his eyes off his phone. If she were mine, my phone would be sitting in the bucket of ice, drowning in water, so we wouldn’t be disturbed.
On my way back to my cabin, I stopped by the local store and scooped up a bottle of Jameson Whiskey to go with my dinner. My delicious-smelling dinner never makes it into my stomach because the booze goes down a lot smoother. I go down harder, collapsing on the bed like a ton of bricks without slipping out of my clothes.
****
It’s three the next day when I finally crawl out of bed, head pounding and brain foggy as fuck. “What am I doing?” I grumbled, rubbing my crusty eyes. This isn’t the way I need to be acting. I’m twenty-nine, not fifty, and yes, the only woman I have an attraction to is taken, but I still need to get my head out of my ass. Stripping my clothes off, I head toward the shower, but then the doorbell to my cabin rings. It sounds like a damn bullhorn instead of the damn ding-dong like it should. I need some painkillers or something, but I really need is for whoever it is, is to get the fuck out of here.
“What the hell?” I stumbled toward the door.
“Hello, Mr. Barrymore,” a sweet voice calls out.
I whip open the door without giving it a second thought. “Whoa. Oh my God,” Georgia squeals, slapping her hands over her eyes. “Mr. Barrymore, I came to drop this off. It arrived for you this morning, but you didn’t answer your cabin phone line.” She turned her head, but all I could focus on was the ring on her finger. Was that an engagement ring?
“Sir, can you take this, or at least put some clothes on?” she stammers while scolding me. It’s only then that the breeze hits my free willy. The pain in my head subsides.
“Oh shit.” I drop back, snatch a nearby blanket, and wrap it around my waist. “Who sent it?” I ask, fighting off the growing wood. Damn, why does she turn me on so much? Even with my pounding head, the woman has got me stiff. I hate that she’s refusing to give me her eyes. They’re a pretty shade of greenish-brown eyes that are sparkling in the bright sunlight. They’re so perfect.