Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Jared was the first man I’d ever met who I just wanted to jump because I was attracted to him on a level I couldn’t explain. I didn’t know him or what his thoughts were on the world. I just wanted him.
And for a few exhilarating moments, he’d wanted me too.
The fact that he didn’t anymore because of who I was hurt in a different way to all those who had wanted me because I was Chiara Howard’s daughter.
We drove in silence, but it wasn’t an easy, comfortable silence. I was too aware of him and wondering constantly if he was really that immune to me or hiding his awareness.
While Jared wasn’t a big talker, this monosyllabic version of him didn’t seem right either.
Worry pricked me. “Are you sure everything’s all right? You seem …”
He flicked me a quick look. “I seem …?”
“Preoccupied,” I decided.
Jared replied with a grunt.
Just a grunt. Nothing else.
I didn’t know why that hurt. We barely knew each other, really. In five years, he hadn’t made an effort to get to know me. We were simply cordial whenever we were thrown together.
Turning away, I kept my gaze on the countryside outside the passenger window.
No more words passed between us until we reached Ardnoch.
“You’re staying on the estate, right?”
“Yeah.”
So Jared silently drove me outside the village, down the tree-lined road toward the security gates that led not to the castle that hosted the main club, but to the private gate for residents.
The guards recognized me and let Jared drive in. I directed him down the winding road because it branched off toward other properties.
My parents owned a beach house on the estate. It sat on the cliffs that dropped dramatically toward the dunes and the North Sea beyond. Aria and North bought the beach house next door when a famous studio head had put it up for sale five years ago.
“That one.” I pointed to the New England–style home with its wraparound porch.
Jared made a sound in the back of his throat, drawing my sharp gaze.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he muttered. He shut off the engine and threw open his door, jumping out.
With a heavy sigh, I got out and was just closing the door behind me when he rounded the Defender with my luggage.
“Thanks.” I took it.
“You’re welcome.” Those stunning green eyes barely met mine before he turned on his heel and rounded the back of the car.
I stood there, watching as he got in and drove away without another look or word.
“What the fuck was that?” I huffed at the empty space he left behind.
Two
Jared
I’d just pulled up to the farmhouse when my phone rang again. A glance at the screen said it was Sorcha. Guilt nagged at me as I ignored it and jumped out of the Defender.
Georgie, the only farmhand I had left, was waiting by his car outside the house. Dread settled in my gut, hoping he didn’t bring me more bad news.
“Did you get Sorcha sorted?” he asked, pushing away from his vehicle.
Sorcha Penman was the woman I was casually seeing. After years of one-night stands, I’d started dating Sorcha because she knew the score. It wasn’t serious. We both knew I would never commit. She promised she didn’t want commitment and I had to hope she meant it. I liked Sorcha, but I’d never love her. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of romantic love.
What we had was convenient for both of us, but it was starting to interfere with the farm. I’d gotten a hysterical call from her a few hours ago because her dog, Brechin, had eaten a bar of chocolate. I was fond of the wee thing, so when she’d asked me to come be with her at the vet in Inverness, I’d gone. Brechin would be fine.
But Sorcha had clung to me like I was her adoring boyfriend, and it made me seriously uncomfortable. Maybe it wasn’t so convenient anymore.
Georgie read my expression. “I know that look. I take it you ended things.”
I shook my head. “Not yet. I’m not such a bastard I’d dump her the day her dog almost died. How was today?” I hated that I’d left Georgie to the farm when things were shit.
The farming industry was more stressful than ever. Dependent upon the mood of the weather, every year was always a possible struggle. But these last few years had been devastating. The turnover was so bad, I had to let my other farmhand (and friend) Enzo go.
He’d since moved down south to work on a farm in Kent.
Last winter, there was so much rain we hadn’t gotten our winter barley into the ground fast enough. The barley needed to be cultivated, sprayed, cultivated again, and then drilled. All within two weeks. Nearly five hundred acres needed to be done in those fourteen days. But it rained and rained last September, and we weren’t fast enough. The yield dropped off, along with the profits.