Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“She isn’t good at explaining or creating new documents the way you are. And her recordkeeping is stuck in the ’90s and will have to be brought up-to-date. She prefers payroll and benefits. You would be such an asset. Would you really consider living here?”
I swallowed the thick feeling in my throat, the impulse to jump up and scream yes. Instead, I nodded. “I have been thinking along those lines, to be honest. A fresh start. I have made some friends, and I love the city.”
She stood, smiling widely. “Then let’s take it one step at a time. I’ll talk to Mr. Whitby, and I’ll mention you are thinking of returning permanently. If, of course, you found a job.” Then she chuckled. “We could always find a nice lad to marry ye. You’re a bonny lass, and I know we’d have no trouble!” Laughing at her own humor, she left, leaving me stunned.
A week ago, I would have been pleased at her words but not considered them. Moving here hadn’t really entered my mind until Sully. But now, everything seemed to be pushing me in that direction.
And I knew when I told him, he would inform me I needed to let the wind take me—and he would be waiting for me when I got there.
I stood across the street, eyeing up Sully’s building. It was a nice-looking structure. Modern but not out of place with the area. It was about a fifteen-minute walk to the office in one direction, and I knew Sully’s walk was about ten minutes in the other.
Convenient for both of us.
I crossed the street, typing in the number he’d given me. The door clicked open as his voice came over the speaker. “Top floor.”
“Good thing I’m not a burglar,” I muttered.
“Cameras, love,” he called out as the door shut behind me.
Upstairs, he was waiting, his door open. He filled the frame, his broad shoulders taking up most of the space. He was smiling, holding out his hand, eager for me to arrive.
He kissed me warmly, then pulled me into his flat. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I’ve been waiting.”
“Sorry. I was a little delayed.”
He kissed me again. “Worth the wait. Take off your coat. You’re staying, right?”
“For as long as you’ll have me.”
He threw my coat over a chair and dragged me into his arms. “Then you need a much larger suitcase.”
I wandered around as Sully finished dinner. “It smells great.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t make it, I’m afraid. Marks and Sparks handled it all. But it’s usually tasty.”
“Sounds good.”
“Look around, get acquainted with the place,” he invited.
His home was nice. Masculine with clean lines and simple furnishings. Yet it was homey. A massive, inviting sofa faced a fireplace, with two deep wingbacks flanking it. A TV hung over the simple, heavy-looking wooden mantel. A thick rug felt soft under my feet. The walls were a deep ivory and the furnishings rich green and black. Dark wood tables finished the area, as well as a few cushions and blankets that looked perfect for afternoon naps by the fire. Bookshelves were on either side of the fireplace, filled with various genres. Fiction, history, law, mystery, even nonfiction, all blended together, showing his varied tastes. He had a small office, containing more shelves of books and a desk with a mammoth computer screen off to one side.
I spotted the bedroom down the hall and, unable to resist, took a peek inside.
He had a king-sized bed with a padded leather head- and foot-board and matching siderails. The sheets looked soft, the comforter a cloud. This room was done in browns and blues—very manly, yet still pleasing to the eye. His dresser was tall, taller than me, and I spied a walk-in closet. The room had a chair in the corner, a throw over the back, and a table with a lamp and a stack of books, a pair of glasses perched on top. The room smelled like him. Warm. Inviting.
The bathroom contained a walk-in shower and a stand-alone tub. Double sinks. All in muted colors with glass and brushed chrome. Tasteful and understated elegance surrounded me.
I headed back to the kitchen, where gleaming cupboards and modern appliances were arranged in a well-thought-out design. The stone counters were dark, playing off the lighter cupboards and walls. The floor was warm under my feet.
“Lovely place,” I said, sliding onto a barstool.
He grinned. “I like it.”
“Did you have it done?”
He shook his head as he plated dinner. “Not completely. Roisin helped a bit, but I bought pieces I liked and had help getting it finished to my own taste. I’m not much for frilly things, but I like comfort.”
“It shows.”
He lifted the plates. “We can eat at the table.”
“Can I help?”
“Bring the wine.”
He slid a plate in front of me after I sat down. The table was small but nice. Round, with enough room for four, although for two, it was perfect. I eyed the flowers, and he kissed my head before sitting beside me. “Those are for you, my lady.”