Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
When I got out of the Jeep, parking it directly on the drive, Misha barked, and I quickly walked around, unclipped him from his seat, and picked him up. Only then did I realize he was shivering.
“Crap,” I muttered, putting him back down, then unzipped my jacket, grabbed him again, and deposited him inside, against my chest, supporting him from underneath so he was tucked into a pouch of warmth.
“You know, I’ll bet you money they put a jacket in there for you. It’s probably cheetah print or something equally ridiculous.”
He didn’t care, he was fine now, and poked his head out so he could look around.
“I should probably look inside and—oh shit,” I gasped, noticing what I thought was a body between the house and the studio. I hadn’t seen it until I got out and started walking. Of course it was just my luck that Ms. Farley would end up dead when I got there. I could just imagine trying to explain that to Deputy Marshal Alvarez.
Bolting toward the corpse, I did what I always did and glanced around, looking for danger, really missing a gun at that point.
When I reached the body of the older woman, standing directly over her, I was about to crouch down and check for a pulse when I noted the arm thrown across her eyes and heard snoring. She was very much alive. And very much asleep.
Leaning over, I gently shook her. “Hello.”
Moving her arm down to her side, she opened her eyes and looked right up at me. After a moment, she smiled. Not what I was expecting at all. She was a stunning woman, an aging star of the silver screen with her thick, wavy platinum hair like a cloud around her head. She was dressed in paint-splattered denim overalls that were a bit at odds with the Chanel blouse she was wearing under them, the enormous diamond studs, diamond choker, and gold cross inlaid with emeralds. She was wearing hunter-green sequined slippers on her feet.
“Hello,” she replied cheerfully, sitting up, then lifting her hand, shading her eyes so she could see me. “Are you a pirate?”
Strangest question ever. “No,” I said even though it took me a second. Really, she looked like an angel, or what I thought one would look like staring up at me.
“You look like one,” she said, offering me her hand so I could help her up. “And I mean that in the best way, of course. Very romantic, like a swashbuckler.”
I nodded. As compliments went, with the context she’d given me, I couldn’t complain.
Her platinum hair had bits of grass in it and a few twigs.
“Can I help get all the stuff out of your hair?”
“Is it going to bother you?”
Honesty in all things. “Yes.”
“All right, then,” she agreed, turning around so I could get to work.
“Would you mind holding him?” I asked, passing Misha to her. He went willingly.
“Oh, what a darling dog. I was just telling Evelyn and Loretta that we needed a protector on the place, and look what the universe has delivered.”
“Evelyn and Loretta?”
She waved her hand to the left, and I saw four sheep there, all looking recently sheared.
“There’s four of them,” I pointed out. Not to be an ass but just for correctness in case she couldn’t see them or hadn’t noticed the others.
“Yes, but I don’t normally discuss matters to do with the homestead with Beverly and Gwen. They’re much more interested in the weather and that lovely Deputy Chief Malloy.”
I too was interested in Deputy Chief Malloy.
“They really want to pop into his yard and eat the grass and his flowers, but he keeps that gate shut all the time.”
“Gotcha.”
“Very private, very closed-off young man.”
“Young?”
“Well, younger than me, dear.”
“Okay.”
“How are we coming along back there?”
I’d pulled out all the twigs and leaves, and there was just a bit of grass left. “I think you’re good,” I said, and she turned to face me. “Oh my, yes, they are lovely, aren’t they?”
“Pardon?” I noted she didn’t immediately pass Misha back to me, and unlike when other people at the vet clinic had held him, he wasn’t squirming to get away. He looked pretty content, actually.
“You have the most beautiful dark eyes I’ve ever seen.”
What was I supposed to say to that? “Thank you.”
“And who, might I ask, is this handsome creature?”
“That’s Misha.”
“What a charming name you have.” She petted my dog, holding him gently as she started walking away, back toward the drive.
“Ma’am, I’m Maks Gorev, your new renter,” I said, darting after her.
“And caretaker, yes, I understand.”
“Caretaker?”
“Well, yes,” she said, still walking, and I realized it wasn’t toward her front yard, but toward my Jeep. “That’s what it said in the ad I placed. I need someone to coordinate all the different people needed for the upkeep of the grounds and, of course, the renovations on the house”—she looked at me then, and I had the weirdest feeling that she was looking right through me, pinning me with her gaze—“but only if you think there should be renovations. I might be wrong. Perhaps it’s fine, but there is a me-shaped hole in the living room ceiling that I fell through last Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I get the days confused when there’s no party. I used to have so many, but then Oscar hasn’t been here to throw any more, you know?” She was looking at me expectantly.