Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
A blush creeps up my neck as I rattle off a list of ingredients, trying to distract myself from the things I want him to do to my body. Something tells me that with a body like his, he probably knows exactly how to keep a woman warm during a snowstorm.
He quickly retrieves the items I list, and he doesn’t even have to stretch. He must be over six feet tall and it’s all lean muscle.
“What was it you said you did again?” I ask when he places the five-pound bag of flour on the kitchen island. With just one chair, I wouldn’t have expected him to have the things I need for baking.
“I work at the lumbermill,” he answers as if he understands that I was clearly not in the best frame of mind when I arrived at his place.
“So, you’re a lumberjack.” I take a dry measuring cup from the island drawer. My grandmother would have loved a day like today, trapped inside with me and my grandpa. A lump rises in my throat at the thought.
He grimaces at the word lumberjack. “You never did tell me what you do.”
I hesitate. People treat you differently once they know you come from money, and I don’t want that from Crew. “I’m in the family business.”
He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. The simple motion pulls that gray t-shirt even tighter across those very broad shoulders and hard body. “Is that code for mafia?”
I do my best Godfather impression. “I’ll make you a cookie you can’t refuse.”
He chuckles and a giddy warmth fills me. I don’t know what it is about him that leaves me feeling like a silly schoolgirl but whatever it is, I like it. Why couldn’t I have been engaged to someone like Crew?
“About how long will the snowstorm last?” I ask as the wind howls again and the lights flicker.
“A few days. Usually takes a week before I can safely get the truck down the mountain again,” he explains.
His words should probably trouble me, but they don’t. I was supposed to be on my honeymoon for the next two weeks which means all my work at the office is covered and my friends are taking turns checking in with my grandfather. I’ll be home again before anyone needs me.
“Do you want help with that?” He gestures toward the bowl where I’m working on mixing together the dry ingredients.
I give him instructions, knowing the steps for my grandmother’s famous chewy cookie recipe by heart.
He pauses when I mention the secret ingredient that makes the cookies taste extra decadent. “Cream cheese. That’s Ma’s recipe. It makes the cookies—”
“Chewy in the center but crispy on the edges,” I finish with a grin.
He nods as he cracks two eggs. I watch his long, calloused fingers move with practiced ease.
Being here with him as the wind whistles outside and the lights flicker makes it feel like my problems are a million miles away. There’s a peaceful coziness that has me wishing I could step away from my real life and into this fantasy land.
I know that when I go back, I’ll need to find a rich husband. Sebastian Thomas isn’t the only rich guy in need of a wife. I just have to find someone else to marry for his money. Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll be someone kind. Someone like Crew.
He adds all the wet ingredients to a mixing bowl then looks up to frown at me. “Something wrong?”
I realize I’ve been staring at him again and blurt out, “Why is there only one chair here? You have everything you need to cook gourmet meals and desserts but not the furniture to share it with someone.”
Pain or maybe loneliness flickers across his face. “I’m a grouchy bastard who doesn’t particularly enjoy company.”
“You enjoy my company,” I counter quickly. As soon as I say it, I feel a blush start up my neck. What is it about this man that makes me spit out the first thought that pops into my head?
“I’ve answered your question,” he says as he puts down the spoon he used for stirring. “Now answer one of mine. Why the hell isn’t your groom here, begging on his knees for a second chance with you?”
Crew
It’s the question that’s been haunting me all morning. Maggie isn’t flighty like my ex. She’s beautiful and strong and smart. Her mind is always working and she’s constantly examining everything around her. I can’t imagine the kind of idiot that wouldn’t be showing up to plead for another chance with her.
Her face goes blank, and she shrugs a shoulder.
It’s a simple gesture that tells me a thousand little things. She doesn’t like to let anyone see her in pain. The realization has me wanting to pull her against my chest and comfort her. It’s a foreign feeling after so long on my own.