Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
A grilled cheese sandwich, no less.
She giggles at the display of finery over such a simple item. “Just how I like it. Thanks.”
I take a mock bow, then chuckle and sit down in my place opposite her at the table.
“I would have found you something a bit more interesting, but the chef only comes in when we have parties or guests these days. Otherwise, there’s no point in him being here.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” she says, and there is a little twinkle in her eye, which I fancy I must have put there myself. “A man who can cook is always appreciated.”
I chuckle at that. “I would hardly call this cooking,” I say, but inside, a part of my brain stores this statement away for future examination.
If she’s thinking of me that way, perhaps my ‘taster’ worked. Perhaps she is beginning to see what I can offer her if she stays.
“It’s close enough,” she says, then blushes. “Actually, I can barely cook anything myself. This is pretty close to my limit. I thought I would learn at college, but the cafeteria was just so convenient I always ended up eating there.”
I grin. Well, she will never need to learn to cook if she doesn’t want to. I will see to that.
“I don’t mind doing it myself, but I’m not as good as the chef. It’s always a relief to have him in on those days when there’s a lot to do. Grilled cheese sandwiches are fine, but a five-course meal for thirty is not in my wheelhouse.”
“That sounds like you’d need an army of chefs,” Alana says, her eyes widening.
I glance around the small lunchroom quickly, remembering again that she’s new to all of this – to the things I have been accustomed to since I was a child.
“You’re right there,” I nod. “And an army of waiters. We hold that kind of thing in the formal dining room. It seats up to fifty, and we have the option of the ballroom if we want to seat more than that. Anyway, those days aren’t so frequent anymore. We used to host weddings and shooting parties every week before we went the conservation route.”
Alana nods. “Did it impact the business a lot?” she asks.
I cast her a sidelong look as I take a bite of my food.
Is she asking whether I still have any money?
From what I know of her so far, it seems out of character – but I can never be too careful.
Not that I think it would make any difference now if I found out she was a gold digger.
I’ve tasted her, and I want more.
I was so close to claiming her for good, taking her for the first time and putting my mark on her in a way no man ever will ever be able to again.
I wouldn’t be able to stop now if I wanted to unless she changed her mind. Respect for her is the only thing that can hold back the animalistic longing in me now.
“At first, yes,” I say. “But we have enough in the bank to make it through. We’ve also gotten a few green grants over the years, which has helped, and we run a sponsorship program where people can adopt one of our stags and get updates about them over email.”
I can see her interest, but it isn’t the money. Alana is genuine. “It’s not a lot, but it’s something. We make the rest of our income from the land in other ways than having to kill anything or destroy the ecosystem.”
“That’s good,” Alana sighs. “It would be terrible if you had to go back to hunting or even sell off the land. On the other hand, someone else might not be so kind to it.”
Well, that’s about the response I expected from the most perfect girl.
“Tomorrow,” I say, not sure I can even wait that long to give her everything she wants.
“Tomorrow?” she repeats, looking up and raising an eyebrow.
“I’d like to see you again tomorrow,” I tell her, almost surprised it isn’t so obvious it’s written on my forehead. “I’d like to make the day special for you if I can.”
“Oh.” She colors slightly as she catches my meaning, and I wonder if I have missed the mark for a moment. Maybe put her off by being too forward, too clear in what I have planned. But then she smiles, shyly, but with genuine excitement. “Then tomorrow it is.”
“I’ll meet you in your hotel lobby in the morning,” I tell her. My mind is already racing through all the things I want to show her, all the things I want to do to her.
“How should I…,” she hesitates. “How should I dress?”
I smile. A good question, I think.
She clearly thinks about how she comes across to others. It isn’t something that would bother me much, but a few things are expected of the wife of a Laird.