Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Traffic thinned out once I was out of Toronto, and all too soon, Richton was up ahead. I drove slowly down Main Street, observing the changes. And the things that remained the same. The bank, the small grocery store. The post office and liquor store. The flower boxes on the side of the road—I recalled those overflowing with blooms all summer, the small group of volunteers in the town tending to them religiously. My mother had been part of that group.
I noticed a new restaurant where the Sandwich Shop used to be. The sign, Kind of a Big Dill, made me chuckle. It was cute, and I would have to eat there one day. The new, expanded hardware store seemed busy enough for this time of day. Apparently, home renos and gardening were a hit here.
With a sigh, I turned off the street and down to Sand Avenue, pulling up in front of the house where I would be staying. It was a two-story place, the side steps no doubt the way to my entrance. Brick and stucco, it was well maintained, with a fenced yard out back and a long driveway that led to a garage. It looked peaceful and quiet, which, in retrospect, was exactly what I needed. I drove in, keeping close to the side, and got out of the car, stretching. Between the upheaval yesterday, the long flight, and the drive, I was tired and planned on going upstairs and to bed for a while.
I pulled my suitcase from the trunk and headed toward the stairs, stopping when a voice came from behind me.
“Hello. You must be my new tenant.”
I froze at the lilting voice. The inflection in the simple words.
I knew that voice. I’d know it anywhere.
I turned, nothing preparing me for the woman standing a few feet away, her long golden hair blowing in the light breeze. She still had a band of freckles across her nose and scattered on her cheeks. The softest green eyes I had ever seen. Gone were the chubby cheeks of youth, replaced by high cheekbones on her face. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater that hung off one shoulder, showing a birthmark I had forgotten. But seeing it brought back memories. Kissing it. Teasing it with my tongue as I explored her. As we explored each other.
She was curvy in all the right places, having matured into a beautiful woman.
And she was staring at me, a frown forming a vee between her eyes. I stepped toward her, unsure and cautious. She caught her lip between her teeth, an action so familiar after all these years that it made my chest ache. She always did that when uncertain.
I pulled off my hat and my sunglasses, meeting her gaze. Her friendly expression turned shocked, and she stepped back.
“Hello, Kassie,” I murmured.
“You,” she hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Well, this was an interesting start to my break.
3
KASSIE
Itucked the phone between my shoulder and ear, continuing to stir the juicy fruit and sugar in the bowl.
“That’s great, Laura!”
“I know,” she replied. “She wants it for two months but says her client might only need part of the time, though will pay for the entire stay.”
“I didn’t expect such a long booking so soon. Where is she coming from?”
“California. LA, to be precise.”
I paused with a frown. “Why would someone come to Richton for two months from LA?”
“I gather she’s in the industry and is part of a movie shoot happening here.”
“Oh, I heard about that. A cowboy movie.”
“Yep. Brent and the boys are excited that they’re using the Colby Ranch as a backdrop. Sadie is pretty pumped too. She is going to be an extra—in fact, they’re using most of the hands.” She chuckled. “I think even John and Quinn are going to get in on it. And of course, Cody and Abby.”
I laughed with her. Quinn owned the restaurant Kind of a Big Dill. I baked pies for her as a side hustle. It was a great break from accounting. I knew her husband John and daughter Abby, or “Pumpkin,” as John called her. Her son, Cody, was a regular at the diner, as were Laura and Bob, her husband. They were a great bunch. I had gone to school with Laura and reconnected when I’d moved back to Richton a couple of years ago. She’d helped me find this house and, with all her connections, assisted with the renovations, including listing and maintaining the rental unit on the second floor. Richton wasn’t a mecca for visitors, but I’d had a few rentals, and this one was going to be a boon.
“Are you interested in being an extra?” Laura asked. “I know there’s an email where you can sign up.”
“Maybe,” I hummed, not sure I was keen on the idea.