Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Truman from Legal clears his throat, his foot tapping the floor nervously. “I have very limited information to go on, Mr. Cromwell. All I know is that two women told someone your father offered to promote them in exchange for sex years ago. If true, that constitutes criminal sexual harassment. Of course, we have no information to confirm this at the moment. Given what I have available at this time, the options are suing for slander, ignoring it until one of the women sue us and mounting a defense at that time, or launching our own investigation.”
Everyone stares at me, their eyes drilling through my skin like they can see the headache eating me alive. I hold in a sigh and steeple my fingers.
“What do you recommend?” I ask drearily.
21
No Dry Eye (Jenn)
I know, I know, I know.
I shouldn’t have let him leave alone when there’s clearly more to this weird half story than what he’s telling me.
Not when he’s freezing me out.
Not when he’s a mess who thinks the apocalypse will strike the moment he ever shows the slightest real emotion.
I know all that, and it still stings my heart, just knowing he’s going through it alone.
Worried is a ginormous understatement.
It took ages to get any real feeling out of him. If he starts thinking those cracks in his armor are some kind of weakness—if he shuts down completely—what then?
I ponder it until my head hurts, my chin propped on my hand, when Coffee flies at Miles’ office, thunks his big head on the door, and barks up a storm.
“Seriously, boy? It hasn’t even been a day,” I whisper, scratching his neck.
I get the feeling, though.
When he doesn’t see Miles, he runs around the house in circles, snorting at the ground and launching into a tirade at the slightest sound outside.
I open the office door for the dogs and let them sniff around.
Coffee circles the room with Cream in tow before they trot back out, retracing the last steps Miles ever took in this house.
I’m not even sure why I’m here after taking my things, but I promised to look after his place, didn’t I?
Cream heels next to me and whimpers, looking up with the whiniest puppy dog eyes.
“I miss him, too. He’ll be home soon.”
Never one to let go easily, Coffee paces to the bedroom again. When he doesn’t find Miles waiting for him with a treat, he throws his head back and lets out a grumbling, distinctly Doberman howl. I follow him to the room with Cream behind me.
“Dude, you’re not a wolf.” Even through the melancholy, I laugh.
Coffee stomps his feet and barks at me again.
Yeah, the dogs can’t handle this confusion either.
After a lazy day where I pretend to do some work on the inn’s pilot plans and a sleepless night, I hit my limit.
At four a.m. I crawl out of the bed, clean up, pack my stuff, and kennel the dogs before I send a quick message to Benson.
The valet helps me load the car just before sunset.
“For the record, ma’am, this is a bad idea,” he tells me.
“Why?”
What does he know that I don’t?
“Mr. Cromwell, he’s a stickler for rules. He may not welcome your help—or even your presence—if you’re certain you want to surprise him in Seattle.” His face is unreadable.
“Thanks for the warning, Benson, but it’s my decision. I’ll take the blame if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He hesitates. “No, ma’am. It’s just, well, he’s a very reserved man. And you’ve gotten rather good at bringing out his human side. It would be tragic if he falls back into old habits. I don’t want to see him push you away.”
The honest worry in his voice makes my heart race.
“That’s his move, but I appreciate your concern.” I nod at him and he gives back a ghostly smile.
Then he walks off to get Cream’s kennel situated in the back and secured next to Coffee’s.
I shut the door and move to my driver’s seat.
I have to wait almost an hour for the first private ferry to load up at the docks, saying a quiet prayer that they still have space for one more car and their cargo hold isn’t booked up today.
Fortunately, I’m in luck.
As the ship chugs across the Sound, I feed the dogs treats through the kennels to keep them calm.
The despairing look on Benson’s face replays in my head.
Am I doing the right thing?
I don’t know, but we’re about to find out.
As soon as I’ve unloaded my stuff and two sleepy Dobermans at my parents’ house, I start calling old contacts.
When Sarah doesn’t answer, I try Dave and a couple other people from creative content. But all their lines go straight to voicemail.
That sets my mind racing when it could mean anything.
If the entire office is that slammed trying to put out the mystery fire that pulled Miles back here, it must be bad. Or he instructed his staff not to talk to me.