Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“I’ll make you pay, Mr. Taylor,” I whisper back as I step on my toes.
He kisses me and my whole body turns to warm mush. I’m so happy I took a chance and came on this crazy trip. I’m so happy to be here right now, taking a chance on life, taking a chance on love.
“Hey!” the old man shouts, smacking the counter repeatedly. “No kissing in my store!”
We both burst into laughter and duck down, hiding behind the rack of chips.
“Busted,” I say, feeling my cheeks getting red.
Quinn starts grabbing all the snacks he can reach. “Let’s buy these and get out of here before he chases us out with a broom.”
I laugh as I grab some chocolate bars and follow him.
Vermont is spectacular. I’m in awe as we drive through it, getting closer and closer to Quinn’s parents’ house. The GPS says we’re nine minutes away and the reality of this crazy adventure is starting to hit.
“Does your mom have any idea I’m coming?”
I can tell she doesn’t by the look on his face.
“You didn’t tell her?! Quinn!”
“She’s going to be cool with it, trust me. She wants grandkids so badly.”
“Oh, so she thinks I’ll be her baby factory?”
“She’s… going to be happy to meet you. Let’s just leave it at that.”
I stare out the window, my stomach a wreck. Everywhere I look are rolling hills and tall trees. This place must be magnificent in the fall. I’ll have to get Quinn to take me back here next autumn so we can wear thick sweaters and go apple picking. It’s snowing lightly now and everything looks like Christmas. Every house we pass has beautiful Christmas decorations on it like we’re entering into a Hallmark holiday movie.
“Is this crazy?” I ask when Quinn pulls onto a busy road. The car beside us has a Christmas tree strapped to the roof and it hits me that I’ll soon be sitting around Quinn’s mom’s Christmas tree with his whole family. “This is crazy.”
He stops at a red light and turns to me with a grin. “Crazy is good.”
I moan as he leans over and kisses me. God, he’s so good at that.
“Crazy is good,” I whisper, licking my lips as the light turns green and we’re rolling again.
Six minutes.
“I love this area,” I say as we pull onto the quiet residential streets. “Oh my god, do your parents live in a colonial?”
Quinn looks at me funny. “You know about Vermont architecture?”
“I used to watch a lot of HGTV with my mom. She loved those old colonial houses.”
“Then she’s going to love my parents’ house. Maybe she can join us next Christmas.”
He smiles at me and then looks out the windshield. I’m still staring at him with an eyebrow raised, wondering if I’m being duped here. Is this a scam? Is he a con artist or something? Am I about to lose my life savings as meager as it is? Am I about to be hogtied in the woods and murdered?
This is too perfect. Something must be off. This is too fishy.
No one meets a nice, rich guy who’s immediately all-in and wants to have your mother over without a devious catch. I’ve read enough thrillers to know how this is going to end up and it’s not good for me.
“Isn’t it cool how phones have GPS trackers to let the cops know your last known location?” I say, swallowing hard.
“What?” he says with a chuckle. “We’re here.”
I gasp when he pulls into the driveway of a stunning red brick colonial house that instantly takes my breath away. Dark shutters frame each window and although it’s early winter, I can tell the large gardens are lovingly cared for. Huge trees are scattered around the lovely property—the kind of trees that you want to lazily waste a summer afternoon under with a good book and a cool glass of lemonade. It’s the type of house that looks like it’s been there forever with the old brick and the bright red door with the lovely wreath inviting you in. A warm glow emanates from the windows and a trail of smoke is drifting out of the chimney, giving the house a warmth that I can feel from here. Colorful Christmas lights frame the pitched roof and there’s a group of reindeer made of white lights on the front lawn. I’m instantly in love with it.
“This is it?” I ask, amazed as Quinn parks his SUV.
“This is it,” he says, smiling as he looks up at it. “I should come back more often. It is nice to be home.”
“Quinn!” a lady that I’m sure is his mother shouts as she opens the red door, the largest smile possible on her face. “Mitch! He’s here!”
His dad follows her out, waving at us.
“Ready to meet the parents?” Quinn asks.