Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 156146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
I do not.
(I did.)
“Fortunately, he has manners and is steering clear,” I declared.
“Yes, fortunately,” Heddy agreed, making no attempt to hide she didn’t mean either word.
“I don’t think it’s fortunate, he’s gorgeous,” Sasha said.
“I need more champagne, do either of you need a drink?” I asked.
“I’m good,” Heddy answered.
“You need—” Sasha started, staring at my half-full glass and looking confused.
“Toodles for now,” I interrupted her, giving an index-finger wave, then headed back to the bar, gulping down the champagne I had left along the way.
So, apparently, earlier, I was wrong.
There were times when chugging champagne was appropriate.
And now was one of them.
Chapter 5
The Dance
Chloe
For most of the time that my family had been living in Phoenix after they moved from LA, I’d been in France.
Even though I’d been in Arizona awhile, for a relative newbie, it sneaks up on you. As such, I had not had the experience I needed to understand that, in the summer, Arizona was sweltering hot. In the late fall and early spring, Arizona was sheer perfection. In the winter, during the day, it was heaven.
But at night, it was damned cold.
Go up to Prescott, it was colder.
Up here in the mountains where Bowie lived, freezing.
And as such, mountains plus freezing meant there could be snow.
And there was.
A beautiful blanket of pristine, white, holiday snow covering the earth and tufting the pines.
It was gorgeous by day, breathtaking by moonlight, but I had not taken this into account when I’d packed.
Of course, I had a poofy parka that I kept up here for times when I needed it.
But I’d consider boiling oil poured over my skin before I put it over this outfit.
This made it fortunate I’d brought my alabaster pashmina, which was wide and long and warm.
Even so, it was doing very little to keep the chill at bay as I stood outside on Duncan’s back veranda, standing at the railing, staring at the moonlight gilding the lake and casting ornamental shadows of the crested pines across a bed of blue-white.
I was there because I needed to escape.
This wasn’t because Judge had so far (for hours) completely avoided me.
I’d noted (because, regrettably, I’d looked) that he’d talked to Sully (several times). To Gage (also several times.) To Duncan and Mom (once, for what seemed like an excruciatingly long time). I even saw Sully introducing him to Matt and Sasha.
He didn’t get anywhere near me.
I did not care.
(I cared.)
No, what drove me out into the biting air was something else.
I kept my body facing the railing as I slightly turned my head and slid my eyes into the room.
And saw Mom laughing with Beth and Heddy, and I hated it about me, but I breathed a little sigh of relief that she was thus, one of the few times Bowie wasn’t at her side.
Bowie.
At her side.
I closed my eyes tight and heard my sister’s hissed words of not ten minutes before, another reason I was out in the cold, literally and figuratively.
“It’s none of your business, Chloe. I mean, seriously, do you think for a second that Mom is fired up about you getting in his face? She doesn’t need Dad and Matt not talking and you and Matt not talking either. Stop being so damned nosy and even more freaking bossy. Leave him alone.”
Needless to say, Matt had a conversation with our sister.
Also needless to say, she was taking his side.
Further something I personally thought was needless to say, I could opine about her doing this because, if someone took Matt to task for carrying his resentment about Dad on for far too long, they might also take her to task for being adrift.
Wisely, I decided not to bring up that last point when Sasha told me off.
I could try, but as I’d done it countless times before, I knew I’d fail in any effort to brush aside one of my siblings being mad at me. A sheer impossibility when both of them were.
We might bicker, even have words, but we didn’t fight much.
However, when we did, it upset me.
Greatly.
Therefore, definitely in a cold war with Matt, and tensions escalating with Sasha, I was standing, freezing my satin-covered ass off, facing a new year that was going to be upon me in under ten minutes, and thinking this was becoming typical.
Out with the shitty old.
And in with the shitty new.
On this thought, my eyes flew open, and I emitted a surprised peep when a weight landed on my shoulders.
I whirled, and when I did, the heavy camel hair overcoat I was suddenly wearing whirled with me.
And there stood Judge, and he did it close, with a thick burgundy scarf wrapped around his neck and his hands lifted.
To me.
He used them to pull the lapels so tightly closed at my chest, my upper body swayed at the same time it contracted with the snug fit.