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)
“Must be weird, though, crushing on someone who basically works for you,” he says, draining the last of his glass.
“He doesn’t work for me, boss. He works with me. Like you said, big difference. Besides, I can think of worse things.”
“Yeah?” He waits.
“Like crushing on your boss. Especially if your boss is some rich jerkoff who was born missing the smile muscles in his face. I’ve seen those situations before and they’re always just...miserable. Pathetic, really.”
His eyebrows dart up. “You talk like it’s from experience, Miss Landers. Should I tell you now I’m not interested?”
My heart stops.
This man is determined to watch me die by embarrassment.
“No! Don’t be ridiculous,” I rush out, feeling my face ignite. “I’m talking about my friend. It’s a miracle her office fling had a happy ending. That kind of craziness rarely does.”
“Piper Winthrope?” he asks, using her real name instead of the nickname everyone calls her.
My eyebrows go up.
“You know Pippa? We’ve been besties since forever.”
He shrugs. “I know you used to work for Winthrope. That scandal with her and Brock was front-page news for a while during the whole big hotel sabotage debacle. Then the wedding—” His face screws up with disgust. “I thought they went overboard to bury the scandal. Exactly why I’ll always keep a low profile with the press.”
“It wasn’t a scandal—”
“The gossip blogs thought so. It was in my Twitter feed every time I opened the damn app.”
“Yeah, and you saw what happened to Winthrope shares after the dust settled, right? I’m pretty sure Brock and Pippa have a few billion more than you.”
His smirk disappears into granite disapproval. “So defensive. I’m sorry I brought it up, kitten.”
Kitten again!
“Call me that one more time, and I will claw your face.” I hold up my fingers and bend them so he can see my pastel-green nails. One of the few times I regret wearing them so short. “So what if I’m defensive? You’re being rude and she’s my oldest friend.”
“My bad, kitten,” he says with a shrug.
If I stare hard enough, can I light him on fire? Can loathing a man hard enough give you the kind of powers you only find in Stephen King books?
Yeah, but it’ll be my mug in the news next for murdering this man.
Not fair.
“Brock Winthrope never had to bribe local authorities to protect his brand,” I snap off.
“Bribe? That’s a nasty accusation, Miss Landers.”
I motion around the room I spent hours decorating with the creative team. “That’s what this is all about, right? Bribing the mayor and town council. Letting them know Lord Cromwell pulls the strings.”
“Hardly.” He snorts. “I’ve never made it a secret that I’m spreading goodwill with the powers that be. I’m also doing this for Pinnacle Pointe because I respect this town—the same way I respected your dearly departed grandmother. Is that really such a sin?”
I hate that it isn’t.
Gram loved this place with her whole heart. She’d be behind anything that helps put Pinnacle Pointe on the map.
She gave this little town a piece of her heart until the end.
She never dreamed of leaving. I even told her I’d find a bigger dog friendly apartment outside Seattle and she could stay with me, but she wouldn’t abandon Bee Harbor for anything.
“Benson was damn near addicted to her honey,” Cromwell says with a distant look.
“Benson?”
“My valet,” he says with a snort.
I giggle at that.
“What?”
“You’re like the guy in those regency books my grandma used to read. ‘My valet.’”
“His duties are perfectly modern.” His jaw locks. “I’m only telling you this to prove it’s not all about money or power. I don’t need bribes any more than Brock Winthrope does.”
Wow. He is jealous.
The room swells with music, jaunty rock tunes spilling out of the speakers from the digital jukebox and its speakers wired around the bar.
Cromwell stares at his empty glass like he’s contemplating another round. “You want another drink? It’s on me.”
“Thanks, but no. I should help Sarah with the food clips,” I say, slipping away.
Actually, I’m way past the limit of what I can spend all night processing, and I don’t need him adding more to my brain.
When I find Sarah, she’s panicked. “Ugh, this lighting looks rough. What do you think?”
She holds her phone up and swipes through a few videos.
“These are good for TikTok. A quick filter change or a little third-party editing should do the trick. Here, let me try.”
I pull up an editing app and find the right look and effects to make them pop. Ten minutes later, we have a dozen clips showing off savory appetizers alongside fish and chips plates that will make mouths water.
Someone taps my shoulder, and I look up to find Ace again.
“Dance with me.” He asks like it’s not even a question.
Whoops.
Maybe I did lay it on too thick earlier.
He must sense my hesitation, though.