Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“I’m going to make you pay for this, you know that, right?” he asked, shooting me a death stare as he made a beeline for the coffee machine.
In his defense, he was over six feet and sleeping on a bed just barely six feet long. And with a metal frame that made it impossible for his feet to hang over the end.
“I’m sure you will,” I agreed, checking my phone, wondering why the hell Dennis hadn’t gotten back to me. I mean, it was early. And he wasn’t exactly the most reliable guy. But still. I rarely ever reached out. So when I did, I expected a timely response.
I was hoping to avoid having to head into town until the township really got a chance to clear shit up. But after getting a look at the numbers Emilio was talking about, I was starting to get impatient for figuring out what the fuck was going on.
I’d left a well-oiled machine when I’d gone back to New York.
What the fuck could have gone so wrong?
The only person who could have answers was Dennis.
And if he wasn’t answering, I was going to need to track his ass down.
“So what the fuck am I supposed to do now that we’re here?” Gav asked, taking his coffee to the table, cradling it in his hands, but not taking a sip.
“Really, I didn’t think much past… make you suffer,” I admitted with a smirk. “So… whatever you want, really. Unless we run into some issue with the business that needs to be dealt with, there’s not much to do.”
“How the fuck did you not go stir crazy up here?” he asked, looking around. “It’s so quiet.”
I’d honestly vacillated between finding the quiet peaceful and completely intolerable depending on the day and my mood. We’d been born and raised in the city. Our lullabies were car horns and cop and ambulance sirens.
“It’s worse in winter,” I admitted. “The spring and summer is busy. Lots of shit to do or see around here. Out of town women to spend some time with.”
Looking back, I really wasn’t sure how I’d gotten through so much time without my family and friends, without a sense of community like I had in the city.
I’d thrown myself into the import business, wanting at least to make myself useful while I was avoiding getting my ass killed for fucking the wrong woman. And, in doing so, I’d nearly tripled the revenue the port was bringing in and getting sent back to New York.
It was pissing me off that the numbers were down slightly below what they’d been before I’d even arrived.
Who was fucking up that much?
Or, worse yet, who was taking from us?
If the latter, I was glad I’d dragged my brother along, just fucking with him aside. I might need an extra set of hands. It was always good to have backup. Especially this far away from the rest of the organization.
“Think maybe fucking with women should be lower on your to-do list.”
“Not all of us can be monks like you, Gav,” I said, ignoring his grumbling as I walked through to the front of the house.
It was no secret that, when it came to manwhoring, Gav had just never been interested. Though, he was also not a relationship guy. So we all figured he just spent a lot of time with his own hand.
Taking the last sip of my coffee, I set it on the coffee table, then climbed into my boots and jacket, deciding to get a jumpstart on the path before I took a shower and hit the road.
An hour later, and still no word from Dennis, I drove the SUV down the abandoned, but thankfully plowed, Main Street, parking a bit down from the florist that, surprisingly, was actually fucking open. Even in this weather.
Maybe that had been why Dennis hadn’t answered. He’d been busy opening up the shop.
But as I trudged through the eighteen inches of snow out front of the shop, I became a little doubtful.
Still, I moved into the store, finding it nothing like I had left it the last time I was in Balm Harbour. Gone was the old, mediocre dark beige paint that cracked in the corners and was peeling by the baseboards. In its place was a pristine white that really allowed the abundant buckets full of flowers to pop. There was a gift station that had never been there before, and a section for houseplants that probably helped to bridge the gap in times when flower arrangements weren’t very popular.
It looked like a different store.
And the person who greeted me was damn sure not Dennis, either.
Oh, no.
As eager as I was to get in touch with Dennis, I had to admit that the woman standing in his place was a fuck of an improvement.