Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I take off her sunglasses, and Summer’s reaction is instantaneous. Mine lingers in my gut like it’s been punched.
“Oh my gosh, Daddy! I love it so much! This is the one! It looks just like the sunset we saw last week on the back porch! Right?”
It does. I wasn’t sure Summer would notice, but now that she has, my stomach churns ten times harder. Every sunset we share together feels like one fewer is left.
Leaving Summer there to admire the wall with excitement, I walk over to the neatly sorted paint cans and clean brushes to see if the paper is there. I barely even glance at it before I’m shocked by a name—Norah Ellis.
Her phone number sits right below it in the same delicate, feminine handwriting.
Holy shit.
I have to blink several times before my brain can fully comprehend how to feel about the revelation.
She’s a pain in the ass, weighed down by complicated baggage, and she makes me do stupid things. In a week’s time, her presence has had me both punching strangers and engaging in the best kiss I’ve ever had.
Norah Ellis is the very last person I need working for me.
“Dad, you have to leave this one up,” Summer continues, her exuberance temporarily knocking me out of my confused stupor. “This way, we can come out here and see that sunset all the time!”
Even though I wish I could erase Norah Ellis and everything related to her from my life, there’s no way in hell I can say no. “Okay, baby. We’ll leave it.”
“Forever?” she asks.
Fuck. “Forever.”
I feel slightly sick as we leave the barn to finish our ride around the property, and by the time we get back to the house for Summer’s daily bathing and evening medications, I’m ready to come out of my skin.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to worry about hiring an assistant while I have so many bigger things to worry about, and how to reconcile that Norah Ellis is the assistant in question.
I want to do right by my sister and my daughter, and I want to be able to afford the care Summer so desperately needs. And for the love of God, I want to stop thinking about that fucking kiss.
In need of distraction, I grab my keys and give a heads-up to Summer and her nurse before taking off for town in my truck.
Less than ten minutes later, gravel crunches beneath my tires as I park in front of The Country Club. It’s not busy, thank fuck, so I know I’ll have immediate access to a stool and a glass of bourbon.
Unfortunately, since this is the only bar in town, I’ll also have a nosy-ass Clay getting in my business. But since I don’t keep booze in my house anymore, if I want a drink, this is what I have to do.
Hawkeyes engaged, the busybody spots me the second I step through his door and makes a dramatic showing of stepping away from the customer and setting his hands on his hips.
“My God. What in the world’s going on? Bennett Bishop in my bar on a Wednesday evening? Must be the apocalypse.”
I roll my eyes and take my seat on a stool at the far end of the bar where no one else is sitting, and Clay doesn’t waste any time trotting over to me.
I swear, he is such a pain in the ass sometimes.
“Well, howdy there, good buddy. What brings you in this time? Get in another shootout with some out-of-towner and spend the day in holding?”
“Give me a glass of bourbon, Clay,” I reply rather than dignifying his stupid shit.
“Wowee, okay, then. Not in the mood for teasing, I see.”
I breathe deeply, and he stands there, waiting.
“Clay. Bourbon, please. Then I’ll consider talking.”
Finally motivated, he obliges, setting a glass in front of me and filling it nearly to the brim with ice and amber liquid. I take one sip, and then another, and that gives me a reason to blame the burn in my throat on something other than Norah Ellis.
Clay is uncharacteristically quiet as I indulge some more, and for some reason, the new strategy proves effective. I start to talk.
“Breezy’s been on my ass about finding an assistant again. Says the bills are piling up, and I need to start selling shit so I can keep Summer at home and give her the care she needs.”
Clay nods just once.
“So I put that old ad up at Earl’s again, and someone actually found the damn thing and came to paint the barn yesterday. Summer and I took a ride down there to see it, and for once, someone actually did something worthwhile.”
“Great.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “Except the someone is Norah fucking Ellis.”
“And?”
“And? We’ve had a lot of shit between us in the short time she’s been here, Clay, and not one piece of it is good. You think it’s a good idea I hire her, make her a permanent fixture in my life? In Summer’s?” I shake my head. It’s the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard, especially because there was something good—something explosive—in that stupid-as-shit kiss I have no intention of sharing with Clay if the town hasn’t been yapping about it already.