Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Brady reached past me to flip on a light. “See? We do have electricity.”
“Thank god for small favors.”
He walked over to the fireplace. It was a fairly decent size. I was used to gas fireplaces in the city, so it was strange to see the open hearth. The mantel housed a flock of carved wooden boards, and above that was a photo of a pleasant-looking couple. The man had a gray goatee and glasses, and his arm was around the woman, who had a smile that could only be described as grandmotherly.
“Your grandparents?” I asked when Brady followed my gaze.
“Yep. They were married for fifty-nine years.”
“That’s a shame they didn’t make sixty.”
“Yeah.” His face fell. “They were just a couple of months short of it. My grandmother went first, and then my grandfather a few weeks later. I kind of figured it would be like that—they were crazy about each other.”
“They look very much in love.” My beef with their grandsons didn’t change the truth of that statement.
“They were. Anyone who met them knew that right away,” Brady said. He moved deeper into the room as he talked. “Anyway, as you might have guessed, this is kind of the common area. We serve breakfast here, and people generally gather here in the evening… at least when it’s too cold to go outside.”
“What do you serve for breakfast? Cereal? Toast? Yogurt?” My eyes darted around, trying to spot which table might hold that kind of thing, but there weren’t any obvious candidates.
Brady looked at me like I was nuts. “Of course not. I make eggs, sausage, bacon, and either pancakes or waffles.”
“Every day?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made a breakfast that elaborate. Usually, I grabbed a protein bar and coffee.
“Yeah. Well, when we have guests.” He blinked and then looked away, his expression darkening. I gathered he hadn’t wanted to admit they didn’t always have guests, but it seemed kind of obvious to me. I doubted most people in the area known as Chicagoland even knew his town existed, let alone this inn. But Brady seemed incapable of staying down for long, and he moved in between two huge and ancient-looking wardrobes. He opened one and gestured inside. Colorful, if somewhat faded, boxes were piled up inside. “Board games for the guests to use.”
I tried to wrinkle my nose and roll my eyes at the same time, and the end result was probably pretty odd looking. But what was with this guy? He was in his twenties. He was supposed to be staying up all night playing Call of Duty or Resident Evil. Or soccer with his friends. Or, you know, going out on a date.
“Board games? Seriously?” I wished I had the camera on so that my followers could see how lame this place was.
Brady looked confused. “What about them?”
I moved toward him. “You do know there’s a reason why board sounds the same as bored, right? I mean, what kind of grown adult would—wait, is that Mousetrap?”
He spotted the box I was pointing at. “Yeah. It was always one of my favorites. Do you like it?”
“I did when I was a kid.” My dad had always been so patient helping me set it up. As I looked more closely, I spotted several games I’d liked decades ago. Plus Sorry, which was one of Dad’s favorites. Still, board games weren’t much of an incentive for a stay in the middle of nowhere.
“Guess what’s in this one,” Brady said, pointing to the other wardrobe with a magician’s flourish.
“A lion? A witch?”
He chuckled, getting my joke right away. Then he theatrically opened one of the doors. “Books!” Then he opened the other door. “And everyone’s favorite—puzzles!”
My expression must’ve been puzzled, but I just shrugged my shoulders. “I’ll be sure to mention that in my review of the inn.” Of course, I’d use it as a point against the place, but he didn’t have to know that.
The sound of a throat clearing announced that Cole was back. Did he always look so strict? Clearly, I hadn’t been forgiven for my attack on Down to Earth, at least not by him. Brady seemed the more forgiving type, but looks could be deceiving. After all, he’d been okay with the Massage Mate 3000 fiasco. He’d been the first one I’d met, actually. And the first one who’d lied to me.
“Did you show her her room yet?” Cole asked his cousin, ignoring me.
“We were just headed that way,” Brady said. He strode toward a hallway leading off the main room. Cole went too, and I trailed after them.
The hallway was dimly lit, and there were paintings of forest scenes on both walls. Brady paused briefly by the third door on the left. “This is Penny’s room.”
Cole moved on ahead and opened a door at the end of the hall. “And this one’s yours.”