Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Burnett scowled but realized he’d been caught in his own noose. “Beer for everyone?” he bit out.
Even the other two guys nodded at that.
“Works for me,” Macy said, placing her hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” he muttered and stalked off.
Sam shook his head and laughed. “Subtle, Mace.”
“You’re no better.”
He did his best not to flush. He knew damn well he’d been proprietary, knew how out of character his behavior had been. And he couldn’t control it worth a damn.
Nicole watched his byplay with Macy but remained silent. Sam wasn’t sure if she’d caught on to his intent or if she thought he was just giving Burnett a hard time.
“I got rid of Rob,” Macy said, leaning close so she could whisper for Sam’s ears only. Obviously, she hadn’t missed a thing. “Now go take my new friend and show her a good time.”
No sooner had Macy spoken than Joe grabbed a microphone and announced the start of karaoke night. He hadn’t had the theme in a while and obviously thought with the bar full of regulars, it was a good time to start.
“Karaoke isn’t my thing,” Sam muttered.
Nicole met his gaze. “Mine either.”
That made up his mind. “Want to get out of here?”
She appeared startled at the suggestion but nodded, much to his relief.
A few minutes later, they were outside Joe’s.
“Where are we going?” Nicole asked.
“With a little luck? Some place quiet.” His fingers itched to take her hand, but the maxim too much, too soon ran through his head, and he refrained.
Nicole fell into step alongside him, and they walked across the street to the center median, which was covered with colorful flowers.
“These are incredible,” she murmured and went on to name a variety of flowers she obviously recognized.
He blinked at her knowledge. “Are you a florist?” he asked, realizing he’d never found out what she did for a living.
She shook her head. “No. But my mother was always very specific about flower orders when she planned her dinner parties. Many, many dinner parties.” Her voice droned with the memory.
“Sounds painful.”
“Very.” Her smile packed a punch. “Still, these are beautiful.” She swept her hand through the air to indicate the panorama of flowers and color spread out before them.
“Beautiful is an appropriate word in more ways than one,” he said, speaking more of her than the flowers.
Her jet-black hair and Mediterranean coloring must come from her mother, he figured, since Farnsworth wasn’t an ethnic name. Those blue eyes stood out against her olive skin like two deep pools beckoning to him, making it difficult for him to follow the thread of their conversation.
Somehow he pulled the subject from the back of his mind. “The town’s beautification committee works hard on maintaining this area.”
“I’m so used to the city, being able to see so much color and space is such a treat.”
And her appreciation of something he passed by every day and took for granted touched him deeply, prompting him to explain more about their origins. “There’s a yearly event to raise money to fund this area. It’s a big, formal party at Faith Barron’s house over Labor Day weekend.”
“Who?”
Sam shook his head and laughed. “Right. You’re not a local. Did you notice that big house on the hill when you drove into town?”
“How could I not? It resembles my childhood home.”
He let out a whistle. “Nice.” And way out of his league.
She laughed. “No, the mansion here is much grander. It just happens to remind me of my parents’ home. The way it’s set off from reality and obviously meant to impress, that sort of thing.” She shifted from foot to foot. “But it’s not who I am at all,” she said, as if desperate for him to understand and still accept her.
He nodded in grateful understanding. He didn’t want a spoiled princess in his life—and if he had his way, this understated woman would, at the very least, end up in his bed. Still, she was clearly the kind of girl he’d be taking his time with, and he appreciated that about her.
“So back to the house on the hill,” he said. “Faith and Ethan Barron live there now, and they’re nothing like Faith’s parents, who were the previous owners.”
“That’s unusual,” she murmured.
He nodded. “It is. Yet it’s very right. You and Faith have a lot in common. She’s down to earth and sweet.” Nicole blushed, but Sam merely continued. “Now that you’re living here, I’m sure you’ll meet them at one point or another.”
She smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“Want to sit?” Sam pointed at the empty bench beneath the white gazebo.
She nodded and walked up the few steps, easing down on the wooden seat. He settled in beside her.
“This is the best part of the summer,” she said, relaxing and leaning back.
“What is?”
“This time of day. The sun doesn’t set until late. When I was younger, my sister and I would stay outside until it turned dark.” Her lips lifted upward at the memory. “We’d play games and make up stories. Anything to avoid going back into that cold, empty house with people who . . . people like my parents.” She shivered but clammed up, obviously realizing she’d said more than she wanted to.