Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Great, I know.
After another round of paperwork with the shadowy scarecrow-inspired lawyer with the real beaked nose and the villainous face, Adam appears.
He’s so sweet in comparison to the tall, imposing Stonewell. Even his name sounds made up to inspire insta-quaking. In contrast, Adam resembles a puppy dog. His deep brown eyes glisten with kindness and sincerity, and his sandy hair does a floppy thing over his forehead that is adorable.
“I have to congratulate you,” he says under his breath as he leads me to the kitchen. I hope. He could be taking me to the dungeon, and I’d probably follow him straight there. “No one’s had a second date. Ever.”
“This isn’t a date.” I clutch the paper bag with the fresh rhubarb and cherries that I bought this morning. I’ve got the bottom cradled in my arm because that wasn’t all I bought, and paper doesn’t hold up to a lot of weight. “This is friending. We’re just baking a pie.”
“Well, still.” He pauses in the living room, giving me a good view of the massive stone fireplace that reaches from the floor to the ceiling, the towering timber walls, and the huge array of windows that also overlook the lake, though I swear it’s from a different angle than the other windows in the dining room last night. The furniture is all very dark and heavy, brown leather and wood. It matches the whole hunting lodge vibe the place has.
You know, if the lodge were for royalty.
“Can I ask you to do something for me?” Adam looks less like a puppy and more like an angry guard dog now.
“S-sure.”
“Just try not to disappoint him. He might pretend he’s bulletproof, but his life changed a lot after the accident. He went from having a vibrant career to pretty much enduring self-imposed isolation here. He didn’t just cook. He travelled extensively. He was set to spend his life with someone, and she dipped. He’s not the kind of person who mopes around feeling sorry, but he does have feelings.”
She dipped. Whoa. Information overload. How did I not find out about that? Anton failed to mention anything about a fiancée. You’d think that would be common knowledge, but there was nothing. “Is this the part where you threaten me?” I ask, twisting humor through the words to cover up the pain stabbing me right in the stomach.
He ruffles his hand through his hair, pulling it back from his forehead, but it falls right back into place. “It would just really hurt, and he’s had too much of that already. I’m a nurse, but we’re friends. I’m pretty much his only in-person friend now.”
“You don’t want to pick up my pieces. Got it.”
“You don’t want to pick up your pieces either,” he counters.
“There’s that.”
He gives me a once-over like a human lie detector. “Can I try the pie after?”
“Sure. Get the lawyer dude to stick around. He could use some sweetening up.”
Adam’s seriousness breaks around his laughter. “You’re right. I’ll show you the way to the kitchen. This place was built quite a while ago, and the open concept floor plan wasn’t a high priority.”
“They built the darn thing half on the water. That’s impressive enough, I’d say.”
“They used some famous architect from somewhere. I can’t remember his name, but Luca did tell me that when I first got the job.”
We walk past the dining room and down a hallway, twisting and turning until I wonder just how many square feet a cabin could possibly be.
Not a cabin. A lodge. That’s what I’m going to call it, although timber mansion also has a nice ring to it. I know we’re getting close to the kitchen when I hear punk music. It gets louder the closer we get, until Adam turns a corner and motions me in. He gives me a half-snarl, half-smile, and says, “Happy pie making.”
“Thanks.”
Then, he walks off whistling, just like he did last night. I’m only distracted by him for a second, until what I’m seeing sinks in. A full industrial kitchen. I very much doubt the place was originally set up with this. It has to be something Luca got done after he bought the house… err, lodge. It’s not huge—you can’t fit my dad’s bakery into it or anything—but it’s got everything you’d see in kitchens on those cooking shows.
I made sure I was on time today. Luca didn’t get impatient and start without me. He’s not in here cooking.
Instead, he’s sitting on the stainless countertop next to a turntable blasting punk music off a sky blue vinyl record. It’s only slightly angry in tone. I’d call it catchy. Luca’s dressed like he’s going to a festival, with black striped pants, combat boots, a heavy studded leather belt, a black button-up shirt with checkered black and white suspenders over it, and a heavy chain at his neck. His hair is arranged a little too neatly, slicked back, and since nothing overhangs his face, it really highlights the fact that he’s wearing eyeliner.