Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“We were.”
“And then you got separated for years,” Tracy said. “Makes sense why you’d be uncomfortable being in his lands again.”
“Yuck. Don’t call these his lands,” I said. “I know he’s royalty, and the castle is the public face of all of the villages, but it’s all just an old show for the media. They don’t actually do anything important up there.”
“A face for the people can be important,” Tracy said. “And I hate to tell you this, but if you can make up with your old friend, I know he could get you the best people to help with the house. Maybe even free of charge.”
“No,” I said sternly. “Never. I’m not taking charity for this house. I’d rather put my blood, sweat, and tears into it.”
“Suit yourself,” she said.
“Hey, Trace?”
“What’s up?”
“Where’s a good place to get a sandwich around here these days?”
She laughed. “Hate to say it, but the best place is absolutely the fairgrounds.”
“I’m not going there,” I said.
“Jimmy Henderson’s shop uses cheap deli meats. The sub shop on fourth closed down a few years ago, and the diner is better for a burger. And the only other option is prepackaged ones at the general store. But the fairgrounds—”
“Still has Carter’s?”
“Yes indeed,” she said.
I’d already started salivating the second I said it. Carter’s sandwich shop wasn’t just a Berrydale classic. Their sandwiches were some of the best food I’d ever had in my life.
“Please tell me they still have the slow-cooked red wine beef and peppers?”
“You bet your booty they do,” she said. “It’s what I get every time.”
A loud knocking came from the front door.
“Shit. Hang on one sec, Trace,” I said. “Either the contractor from hell is back to tell me about another 50-year payment plan, or I’m about to receive another unnecessary gift at my front door.”
I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear, walking back to the front door and swinging it open, looking to the ground for another delivery.
I stopped cold when I saw Sebastian himself standing at my front door.
“Henry,” Sebastian said. He was in a long, impossibly classy peacoat, with a deep purple scarf thrown around his neck. His eyes looked like blue crystals.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” I told Tracy.
“Enjoy your sandwich,” she said before we hung up.
I looked at Sebastian, closed the door halfway, then grit my teeth together as I opened it up again.
“You’re damn lucky I’m not shutting this door on you right now,” I said.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he said.
“Very convincing.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his eyes wide.
I let out a long breath. “Get in, it’s freezing out.”
Sebastian looked back to the black car that was idling out in front of my house, waving at his driver before coming inside the house. He took off his black leather gloves as he looked around, clearly surprised I’d let him in at all.
“Are you finally going to stop sending me ridiculous gifts now?” I asked.
“I knew you’d hate them,” he said. “Other than the scotch.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I didn’t hate any of them,” I admitted. “But if you think you can win me over with material possessions, you clearly don’t remember who I am.”
“I wasn’t trying to win you over.”
The expression on his face said otherwise.
“Maybe a little,” he finally said.
I looked him up and down. It all would have been so much easier if he didn’t look so perfect. I reminded myself to keep my guard up.
“Nice of you to show up unannounced,” I said.
“I’m sorry, did you have plans for this evening?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“I did, actually.”
“I’ll only be a minute,” he said, his eyes focused on mine. “I needed to apologize, firstly.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “Gift baskets or apologies or sex. But thanks, I guess.”
“I don’t owe you sex, no,” he said, focusing his eyes on mine. “But I at least owe you an explanation as to why I… came on so strong, and then didn’t show up.”
I raised my arms in an exaggerated shrug, then let them fall. “Sure, Sebastian. Why not.”
I crossed over to the living room, plopping down on the worn-down, olive green couch. Sebastian sat across from me on the recliner, perched with perfect posture.
“God, you look so out of place in here,” I said.
He puffed out a small laugh, shrugging off his peacoat to reveal a simple, heather-grey T-shirt underneath.
“That better?” he asked.
“A little,” I said.
I could see so much more of his skin now. His biceps filled out the sleeves of the T-shirt in a way they never used to be able to. He still looked… polished, and poised, but no longer completely mismatched to being in a small cottage.
“Don’t tell my mother I was out in town in just a T-shirt, and we’ll be fine,” he said.