Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
He shook his head. “We have two extra bedrooms. Why don’t I take one as an office, and you can use the other one?”
I frowned. “Why don’t we make one an office we share and the other a guest room?” I’d moved in out of necessity, and we hadn’t had the conversation yet. I guessed it was time. “My place burned down, mostly, so I came here. Um...” My voice trailed off. What words did I want to use?
“I want you to move in permanently.” One thing about Aiden? He didn’t play games. Also, he usually knew exactly what he wanted.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded, relief flowing through me. “Okay. Me, too.” Amusement wandered through me. “But you know that puts you in my grandmothers’ crosshairs, right?” They were currently focused on Tessa, but if I shacked up with Aiden for any length of time, they’d be pushing for a wedding.
One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Angel? I’m in the crosshairs now. Have been since I returned to town. This way, I get the benefits of the danger.”
I could not argue with his logic.
“Take one of the bedrooms as an office,” he finished.
“Maybe.” The plan seemed more rational, but I’d think about that later. “But for now, I want the laundry room.”
I’d had my laundry room at the old cabin set up with a murder board, and something about the smell of fabric softener got my brain going. I didn’t want to explain that to him because it was kind of weird. Sometimes I liked to keep my oddities to myself. “Do you have an old cork-board?”
“Honey, I don’t even have a sofa.”
Yeah, my butt was already getting stiff from sitting on the hard wood. “Good point. Do you mind if I tape pictures to the wall?”
“Couldn’t care less,” he said. “Are you still mad at me?”
I thought through what I knew about the entire situation. “Maybe a little.”
We’d started our relationship as adversaries, and I didn’t like being on the opposite side of him now, but he really could have waited until morning to speak with Nick. Although I did understand his urge to get it over with. “You need to identify who made that allegation against Nick.”
“I’m on it.” Aiden’s voice lowered to a rumble that licked across my skin. “You still mad now?”
“Why?”
He folded his legs and stood like a lazy panther playing with its prey. “Because makeup sex is on the agenda.” Then he was on me.
Chapter 17
Created out of what appeared to be a converted barn, the Rustic Relic sat on a dusty field on the far outskirts of Timber City. The beams were a weathered red, and the front door was wide. When I pulled up to park near the wooden porch, I noted no other cars in the area. I’d never heard of the place, so I wasn’t surprised to find it lacking in bustling business, although it was still early in the day.
A chill permeated the morning, but at least the snow had stopped again. The building owners had failed to plow, so when I stepped out of Aiden’s truck, I sank into the snow nearly up to my knees. How irritating.
I’d called about my Jeep earlier, and Ricky said it would take another week to get it fixed, so I dropped Aiden off at his office before heading north. We had definitely made up the night before, and it had been well worth it. My body was still a little sore and held bite marks in some very interesting places.
Gathering my wool coat around myself, I hiked through the snow and up the stairs to open the front door. A little bell jangled as I entered, and warmth instantly hit me. I carefully kicked snow off my boots once inside and brushed off my coat, hoping to keep the ice chunks near the entryway, which was prepared with rubber mats. I certainly didn’t want to drag the ice and snow around what appeared to be lovely and natural older wood floors.
I glanced around, taking in the different areas and booths. The place smelled stale with a hint of apple-cinnamon beneath the dust. I walked down one of the aisles, noting some Depression glass, as well as maybe a Belleek piece or two.
A female walked around a back corner, carrying a stack of what appeared to be lacy linens. She was many inches taller than me—had to be over six feet. “Oh, hello,” she said, sliding the mass onto an antique stereo with half the front panel missing. “I thought I heard the bell. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for Lisa Robinson.”
“That’s me.” Lisa looked to be in her sixties with highlighted auburn hair and tired brown eyes. Her jeans were tight on her thin body, and her pink button-down shirt showed a lacy black bra. The lines around her eyes and mouth were slightly lighter in her darker skin. Despite her impressive height, she moved gracefully.