Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
How fucking dare he.
It made me sick to my stomach.
He’d probably gone home with that redhead.
I was a moron for thinking he felt more for me.
Every time I let my mind replay the previous evening, I experienced this gnawing pain in my chest and a pit in my stomach. I couldn’t stand it. So I decided to decorate the farmhouse for Christmas. It would be a nice surprise for Jared and a good distraction for me.
It wasn’t much of a distraction. Every other minute, with apparently no control over it, I’d experience a flashback of last night. Or one from the weeks before it, when Theo made me feel seen and cherished and sexy.
How he must be laughing at me now.
And his so-called friend, Scott, who took me to his flat, a five-minute walk from the hotel, all charm and flirtation, until I froze, terrified at his front door. The thought of letting another man touch me was nauseating, and I just wanted to be alone. Scott had gone from sweet and funny to cold and irritated within an instant, though he’d walked me back out onto the street and called me a cab. He had, however, slammed the cab door behind me, to make it very clear he was angry I’d gotten his dick’s hopes up.
Most men were bastards. Hadn’t I learned that lesson yet?
They only wanted one thing. Though some were worse and made you think it was more. Like Theo.
My gaze was drawn to the fireplace mantel. The fire crackled in the grate, filling the house with heat and that lovely smoky smell that felt like home. I’d hung our stockings and even hung Grandpa’s because I couldn’t bear not to. Framed photos of my grandparents sat on the mantel. My favorite was their wedding photo. Grandpa was so unromantic most days … but I loved that photo and the adoring expression on his face as he looked down at my grandmother rather than at the camera. He’d been devoted to her. When she died, a piece of him went with her, and he didn’t even think about looking for another woman. It wasn’t an option for him.
“Where are men like you, Grandpa?” I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks. Even Jared, who was a wonderful cousin to me, was a philandering arse with women. “You were one in a million, weren’t you? Grandma was one of the lucky ones.”
You’ve got that the wrong way around, sweetheart, I suddenly heard his voice in my head. I was the lucky one.
I smiled, brokenhearted. And not just because I missed him.
But because I’d moronically fallen in love with Theo Cavendish.
“Looks like I know how to pick them,” I croaked to the empty room.
Decorating was paused while I showered and bawled my eyes out where I knew no one would disturb me. By the time I got out of the shower, my face was a splodgy mess. I took time drying my hair and putting on makeup so Jared wouldn’t know how upset I’d gotten while he was gone.
The days were short this far up north in December, so he’d finish up soon. At least the Christmas tree was decorated. Maybe he’d help me with the rest of the décor.
It was two weeks until Christmas. I’d need to go shopping in Inverness because I’d left the presents I’d bought back at Theo’s flat in my hurry to leave. Not that I had many presents to buy. Just Jared and a wee something for his farmhands. Something for Mrs. Hutchinson, my old boss at Ardnoch Estate. I’d given Liz hers at our meeting. Theo’s … I’d left that behind too.
So that was it. That was the extent of it. How pathetic was that?
I was just wrapping tinsel around the stair banisters when I heard the back door open.
“It’s me!” Jared called.
We had a mudroom at the back of the farmhouse where Jared and Grandpa would remove their soiled boots and work coats.
Glancing out the glass panes of the front door, I noted the sky had darkened considerably. A look at the clock on the wall to my left told me it was four p.m.
“Whoa, look at it in here.” Jared’s voice traveled through the house.
I finished up decorating the stairs and wandered into the sitting room. The tree illuminated the space and it looked cozy and Christmassy. I waited for it to fill me with that same sense of warmth and comfort it always used to. But there was a dreadful emptiness in place of that feeling.
Jared stood eyeing the tree. He turned to me, his cheeks flushed from the cold, his hair a wee bit disheveled from where he’d obviously been wearing a hat. Jared wasn’t what people thought of when you said the word farmer. While our grandfather didn’t give a rat’s arse about appearances, Jared did. He kept his hair fashionably long on top and short at the sides. And while I was gone, he’d grown a beard that he kept meticulously trimmed. Women had always flocked to Jared, and he took what they offered without promising them much in return.