Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Then why don’t you join us?” I ask.
He smirks. “Because I don’t do shots.”
I lift my eyebrows at him.
“The bourbon I had earlier… That wasn’t a shot,” he says. “It was a…very fast drink.”
I can’t help a giggle.
This is the Henry I remember.
The one with a personality. The one who smiles a lot.
Even though I only met him a few hours before…
I shake my head to clear it.
I don’t like thinking about that night either.
I didn’t shoot anyone. God, I wouldn’t know how to. I’ve never touched a gun.
But it was a scary night. Freaking terrifying.
Ralph had gone crazy, and I wasn’t sure Angie—or any of us—were going to get out of there alive.
Angie couldn’t bear to go back into her house after that, so she moved in with Jason. He was her neighbor anyway. He lives three townhomes down in a gated community in Boulder. She offered her townhome to me as a rental, but I couldn’t bear to live there either.
I take another sip of my tequila.
This time I taste the honey and the vanilla.
“Why don’t more people drink tequila like this?” I ask. “This is really intriguing. And delicious.”
“That’s because it’s good tequila,” Henry says. “Bad tequila doesn’t taste like that.”
“Oh?”
He shakes his head. “It kind of tastes like rubbing alcohol combined with burned rubber.”
I wrinkle my nose. “It’s good in margaritas.”
“Anything is good when you mix it with lime juice and sugar,” Henry says.
I suppose he has a point there.
I take another sip of the tequila, let it flow over my tongue a bit and swallow. I wait a moment before taking a sip of limeade.
“You two should try it like this,” I say to Angie and Sage. “The limeade tastes even better after you let yourself savor the tequila.”
Angie nods, but Sage shoots hers. “Not my jam,” she says. She then tops off our limeades. “Time for burgers.”
We all take a seat at the table. The table is huge, so we sit at one end. Angie and Sage sit side by side, which leaves me sitting next to Henry.
Did they plan this?
No. Angie and Sage are twins. They’re probably used to sitting together.
“You’re the guest.” Angie hands me a platter of burgers.
I take one and set it on my plate. Then she passes me a platter of buns, followed by the veggies.
I love onion on a burger. Especially a sweet onion, which these are. But I’m sitting next to Henry, and he did almost kiss me in the kitchen…
I forgo the onion and take a slice of lettuce, a slice of tomato, and a few pickle chips. Then a little bit of ketchup and a tiny dot of mustard.
I’m surprised there’s no cheese on the table.
As if reading my thoughts, Sage pops up. “I forgot the cheese.” She heads back into the house.
“What’s a burger without cheese?” Henry asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I kind of like my burgers without cheese. I like to be able to taste the meat.”
Angie laughs. “No cheese will cover the taste of Steel meat. All of our beef is grass fed, and it’s savory to a fault. It’s always the main focus of any burger, no matter what you put on it.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard Angie sing the praises of Steel beef.
I’m not quite sure how to tell her that the few times I’ve had it, it tastes just like regular beef to me.
Then again, I’m certainly not a meat connoisseur.
I grew up very modestly compared to Angie.
I’m a child of the suburbs. My father is an insurance risk manager, and my mother’s a teacher. Needless to say, I’m in debt up to my eyeballs for medical school. Even though I had a scholarship for my undergrad.
Sage returns with the cheese, and Henry grabs a slice to slap on his burger.
He also has a giant slice of onion.
My heart falls just a little as I look at his plate.
Guess he wasn’t planning on kissing me after all.
Six
Henry
The sky is cloudy tonight, normal for an evening in Colorado, but the clouds are a little thicker than usual.
We may be in for some rain.
After dinner is finished, Tabitha helps Angie and Sage clear everything up.
I finish my limeade.
It’s good. Refreshing.
I stopped after two singles of bourbon.
I know better than to drink when I’m not feeling myself. That’s never a good combination.
I haven’t overdone it since… Hell, why try to sugarcoat it?
Since I killed a man.
I look around our fenced-in backyard while Zach and Tillie play with my parents’ dogs, Dusty, Sydney, and Sam.
Our ranch is vast.
Of course it is. It’s a multimillion-dollar operation.
Beyond our yard are acres and acres of golden pasture and deep-green orchards tucked between the red cliffs and rolling hills of Colorado’s Western Slope, home to our prize-winning Angus herds, our apple and peach orchards with their branches heavy with juicy fruit during late summer, and our vineyards where merlot, chardonnay, and my cousin’s award-winning Syrah grow.