Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“No,” I laughed. “Why, are you offering?”
“I can pull pints if you need a break later,” he said, his eyes lighting briefly with interest.
“I’ll let you know,” I said, intrigued at the idea of my staid older brother tending bar.
A dark figure stepped in front of the open door, and I stared for a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Ford turned, lifted a hand. “You want a beer?” he called.
Cole Haywood took a step out of the glare, his features coming into focus. I blinked. Even dressed casually, in a sweater and jeans, he looked model-perfect. Cole had always been almost painfully handsome, but oddly, not actually attractive. At least not to me. There was something about him—like he was carved from marble, the cheekbones a little too sharp, his lower lip a little too full, his blue eyes cold.
I don’t know, maybe I just resented him for being the genius lawyer, but not genius enough to get Ford out of jail. Whatever. He was a friend of the family, and I could play nicely.
“Beer?” I asked with a smile as Cole approached the bar.
“Whatever Ford’s having,” he said.
I looked at Ford. “Ford hasn’t ordered yet.”
“I want that stout I had the other day.”
“Ah, the breakfast stout,” I said. “It’s a little late in the day for a breakfast beer, but a solid choice. That good for you?” I asked Cole.
“Sounds great,” he said, and I thought he would have said the exact same thing if Ford had ordered an IPA or a lager.
“I’ll bring them over in a minute,” I said.
“Thanks, Ave.” Ford led Cole across the room to his usual table. Too far away for me to eavesdrop, unfortunately. Both of them looked serious, but not particularly upset.
When I was done building their stouts, I carried them to the table, hoping to eavesdrop just a little, but Ford saw me coming and waited until I was back out of earshot to resume their conversation. He’d always been cagey, my older brother.
My phone buzzed with a text. West.
Lunch? I can pick you up a sandwich and chips, bring it by.
Sounds perfect. Thanks.
A sweet fizz of anticipation hit my chest. West and I had spent all of our free time together since he’d arrested Matthew, and it wasn’t enough. I suspected it would never be enough. There was no such thing as too much West. And now he was bringing me lunch. Because that was the guy he was. Thoughtful. And hot. Maybe I’d give Ford his chance at the taps and drag West off to my office. I could lock the door and—
From across the room, I watched as Ford reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the table to Cole, who picked it up and tucked it into his own back pocket. Very interesting—or it would be, if I had any idea what was in that envelope. It made me uneasy trying to imagine what it could be. A check for services rendered?
I’m sure Ford would tell me it was none of my business. And that was true. But I was his little sister, and I was curious. Maybe I’d work up the nerve to ask at some point. Ford wasn’t exactly approachable when it came to the details of his personal life, but if the right moment would present itself... Until then, I’d have to live with not knowing. It felt like I did that a lot these days, and oddly, I was getting more okay with it.
Ford pushed his seat back and stood. Cole Haywood followed suit. They clasped hands over the table with a firm shake, saying something I couldn’t quite catch.
Ford sat back down, and Cole headed toward me.
“I liked that breakfast stout, Avery,” Cole said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’m so glad,” I said. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“What do I owe you?” He reached for his back pocket.
“It’s on the house,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked, giving me another, friendlier smile, the one I always thought of as his campaign smile—the same smile he might use if he were running for office, shaking hands and kissing babies, his perfect wife by his side. I’d always thought Cole looked like he’d be perfect for politics.
And at that thought, a cascade of images crashed over me.
Cole, standing beside his perfect wife, who’d died in childbirth right around the time Prentice had stopped the renovations on Heartstone Manor.
Cole. Whose perfect wife had been named Caro Haywood.
Caro, short for Caroline.
I felt the blood drain from my face, prickles in my fingers spreading up my arms and down my spine. My mouth sagged open. Could it...? But he was Ford’s lawyer. He would have—
A wave of icy horror went over me as I stared up into Cole Haywood’s cool blue eyes. As Ford’s lawyer, he would have been in a perfect position to make sure Ford was convicted of Prentice’s murder.