Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
My answer to his personal troubles is if you can’t help yourself, help someone else in need instead of acting recklessly.
“Maybe he doesn’t know how,” Mona muses out loud. Her kindness knows no limits. Then, gospel truth, she says, “He needs us.”
“This isn’t an episode of Touched By An Angel. What he needs is a shower, a shave, and a very good therapist.”
But who knows? Maybe she’s right. Maybe being here and helping with the rescues will reform him. Maybe he’s really misunderstood. Maybe he will surprise me in a good way.
Car doors open and slam shut. People pile out. A whirlwind of activity happens. Two men unhook the trailer from the pickup. Louis Vuitton suitcases get unloaded from the back of the Mercedes.
The door to the Mustang Cobra swings open and Shane Hughes slides out of the driver’s seat like he’s selling men’s deodorant to testosterone-deficient teenage boys, in slow motion and exuding more confidence than any one man should ever possess.
He just jolted me out of the narcolepsy I was experiencing only seconds ago. I’m suddenly awake and paying attention.
For instance, I’m keenly aware of the dark jeans hugging his butt. And the white t-shirt stretching across his chest and biceps. The leather cuff wrapped around one wrist? That doesn’t escape my notice. Neither does the chain that hangs out of the back pocket of his jeans attached to his belt. No one in their right mind would attempt to lift this guy’s wallet, but I dig the hint of danger it insinuates.
I declare that I’m on a man-fast and almost immediately, the universe, in its infinite wisdom, delivers this temptation to my doorstep. If I was into conspiracy theories, I’d be cooking one up right about now.
Eyes hidden under aviators, his head swivels right and left until he finds me and locks on. Then something strange happens… he tips his chin at me before walking off in the direction of the guesthouse with an army green duffel bag in hand.
Well this is awkward. The very last thing I expected to have on my Bingo card this year is an attraction to a stranger with a superiority complex. The shiver of excitement I get over such a small, insignificant gesture is really pathetic. For all I know, he could’ve been testing whether the joints in his neck were working properly.
Big picture, though, an amicable working relationship would make the next three months run a whole lot smoother. I can get down with it if he’s willing.
A small woman, no taller than five feet, with a severe red bob and a black designer suit and sunglasses approaches Aidan Hughes, and trailing right behind her is Jess. Naturally, it leads me to surmise that this must be the infamous Cruella.
The redhead’s mouth starts moving rapidly. What seems like an eternity later, Hughes finally deigns her with his attention, his glare flash frozen.
“Stop humping my leg, Jules. I’m not your bitch.”
Not even the smallest attempt to lower his voice. So maybe not so misunderstood.
Shaking off the insult as if it’s just another day at the office, Cruella marches toward me and Mona and stops at the foot of the porch stairs.
“Are either of you Mona Harris?”
“That’s me,” Mona pipes up. With a contagious smile plastered across her face, she rushes down to shake the woman’s hand.
“Jules Izkov. I’m Aidan’s agent.” She motions to a man with silver hair speaking to Aidan in hushed tones. “That’s Neil, his manager. Aidan decided to forgo his personal chef and has arranged for meals to be delivered from the spa resort. I take it you can receive them for him?”
“I’d love to receive for him.”
Have mercy. I can only hope Jules doesn’t pick up on the dirty subtext.
She lifts her glasses just enough to get a good look at me. “You must be Jessica’s friend.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” I answer, because my daddy raised me right.
“Since Aidan will be spending most of the day with you, we should probably go over some details.”
“Um, okay,” I mumble, already uncomfortable with this enormous responsibility weighing on my shoulders.
“First, I need to remind you that you all signed an NDA. If I ever hear or see anything disparaging his good name in the media, I will sue you into extinction. Don’t tell your friends and family he’s here. This isn’t an opportunity for you to launch your next career.”
Lovely. “No need to––”
“Let me finish,” she snaps, cutting me off. “Now that we have that out of the way… Aidan will be helping you care for the animals, as discussed in our emails.”
By the looks of him, something tells me Aidan Hughes isn’t going to handle mucking out stalls very well. I wonder if he’s ever been around large animals. Some people can find them intimidating.
“But more importantly,” she steps forward, “I need you to take pictures and video of Aidan. With the animals, working on the farm, whatever it may be—anything we can use for his public relations campaign. Make sure nothing gives away his location or it’ll turn into a clusterfuck of paparazzi around here.” Gaze narrowed, she watches him approach. “But try to document anything we can use to rehab his image.”