Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 31149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
I chuckle at that. “Is she qualified?”
Maggie shrugs. “I mean, she’s a hell of an event planner. So, maybe?” My lips quirk as she asks, “Do you have family here?”
“My sister,” I answer with a nod as I glide my fingers along her books. She has all kinds, some of my favorite thrillers, some suspense, and, to my surprise, a lot of hockey memoirs. “Both my parents passed, my mom when I was ten and my dad about fifteen years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I bet you and your sister are close, then.”
“We’re getting there,” I answer. “I moved out when I was eighteen, and he passed a couple days after that. Tessa, that’s my sister’s name, her mom was a real piece of work and kept her from me. We reconnected about six years ago, and I moved here to be closer to her.”
Well, shit. Look at me go. Tessa would be really proud of me.
“Oh wow. Lots to process with a concussion.”
I close my eyes, leaning into the shelves. Yeah, dumbass. Way to unload. She doesn’t give a shit about your life.
“But I’m here for it, and I love that for you. Showing her you mean business and moving here to be closer. I like that a lot.”
I swallow before looking back at her. Her eyes are trained on me, her position open and welcoming. She is always smiling, and I know everyone in town adores her. It’s not because of her celebrity status either. It’s because she’s a genuinely nice person. I want to push Kip out of the way and cuddle in her lap. Instead, I nod. “She thought the same, and now we’re on good terms. We talk daily, but I got really busy during the holidays and kind of pulled away. She is now insisting we have weekly dinners, which I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, when I’m writing, I’m focused on only my characters. My family understands, but the guilt is still there.”
“I’m sure,” I say, moving toward where her books are. Her best-selling series, which is what Netflix has picked up, is about a group of elite bodyguards who are hired all over the world. Each guy ends up with some kind of girl and falls madly for them. They’re funny, witty, and so fucking sexy. “It has to be cool, though, living in the worlds you create.”
“It is,” she answers with reverence in her voice. “Are you a reader?”
“I am.” I turn to face her. “I read about two books a week.”
Her eyes light up, and fuck, if I don’t love that look. “That’s so awesome! What’s your favorite genre?”
I swallow nervously. “Romance.”
“No shit!” she squeals. “Have you read me?”
I glance to the side, my face burning to the point of pain. Am I really going to admit that? Before I can decide, my gaze lands on a wedding photo. It’s of Maggie, without her peachy-pink hair, looking as beautiful as the day is long and wearing all white. Her veil is over her face, but the way the sun shines through the fabric makes her look ethereal. She’s holding the arm of someone who I assume is the groom.
“You’re married?”
She turns to see what I am looking at and then back to me. She holds up a finger. “I will not forget to get that answer from you, Doctor.” I smile sheepishly. “But no, I’m divorced. I just love how hot I am in that photo.”
She’s not wrong.
She’s stunning.
“How long were you married?”
“Three years. I married my high school sweetheart, and he decided he wished he hadn’t gotten married so young and wanted to experiment more with people other than me.”
“What a fucking douchecanoe.”
“My dad would totally agree with you,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s been almost ten years now, and I don’t miss him at all. I love that picture, however, and it reminds me that even though that marriage failed, my happily-ever-after is out there.” I watch as she kisses Kip’s nose. “I just gotta find the guy.”
“I bet you have a line of guys waiting for your attention.”
She scoffs loudly. To Kip, she asks, “Are you my guy?”
Kip licks her nose eagerly, and I smile. Then she looks at me. “To your assumption, not even sorta,” she laughs. “But he’s out there.”
The way she says it, with such confidence and hope, leaves me breathless. Hell, I believe her. He is out there, and damn, if I don’t wish it were me.
Could it be me?
When she yawns, I tuck my hands into my pockets. “Why don’t we turn on a movie, relax?”
She eyes me. “You’re really staying?”
“I told you I would,” I say, coming around to sit on the other side of her sectional. “I want to make sure you’re okay. I have my earbuds in and an alarm set to wake me every hour to check that you’re breathing. I don’t have appointments in the morning, so if I don’t get enough sleep, I can sleep in a bit.”