Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
He’s not wrong.
I hate that he has a point.
Yes, I could hire a few guys to come here and help out. It’s not like I don’t have the money. But if I’m being offered free repairs, what kind of idiot would I be to turn him down?
“You really take the Saint thing seriously, don’t you?” I feel a slight thrill of victory as he snorts and rolls his eyes.
If he wants to keep barging into my life, I’m going to annoy the crap out of him.
“Brilliant, Miss Manners. I’ve never heard that shit before.”
“What else do you do? Help schoolkids cross the street? Rescue kittens stuck up trees?” I stack a few plates from the table to lend him a hand. Impressively, the dishes were cleaned, nothing but crumbs left behind.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Are you always this damn judgmental over a guy helping out?”
Ouch, somebody’s sensitive.
“Only when a guy gets all secretive and gives me a good reason to figure him out.” Reaching past him, I open the dishwasher. Thankfully, it was barely used when the house was abandoned and still works. As I load it, I feel him eyeing me with pure ice. “What? I just think it’s important to know the details about your renters.”
“Technically, I’m renting from Mrs. Griffith.”
“And technically, she works for me. She’s also the reason we’re in this mess. But I bet you know technicalities get you nowhere.”
He almost smiles.
Almost.
Probably a trick of the light.
The next second, he’s right back to resting scowlyface.
“And what about you?” he asks. “Would you stop to save a kitten if you saw it on your way to drop a few thousand on designer shoes?”
“Well, yeah! I’m not a monster. I’d call the fire department. You seriously think I could climb a tree in heels?” I hold out my leg, shaking my bare foot.
His gaze scorches my flesh for a frenzied second before he looks away, muttering under his breath.
“Yeah,” he growls. “That’s exactly what I thought. I wasn’t about to let you break your neck, stumbling around with forty pounds of blueberries. For some reason, you’re pissed I didn’t leave you to your fate.”
God.
How can he be so grouchy after eating half his weight in bacon?
But maybe it’s a crude defense mechanism.
It’s just him and the kids here, I notice.
No wife.
Curious.
Is she just too busy girlbossing it up somewhere else or is there another reason she’s MIA?
Either way, I do not want to give Kane Saint free rein to do whatever he wants in this house. Even if it helps me.
Especially if it helps me.
I’d take the broken bones by blueberry mishap over feeling like I owe this man anything.
“If you’re looking at repairs that would cost a thousand bucks, just run it past me first, okay?” I tap my foot impatiently, waiting.
He stares at me for a long second.
“Okay. Assuming you’re done throwing hissy fits over the basics.”
Dick.
I hate the term ‘hissy fit.’
Like I’m some hysterical creature who can’t check her inner bitch before it eats someone’s face.
If only I could melt him through the floor with a glare.
“Yeah, fine. I’m going to trust you to live up to your name and respect my property, Saint.”
“Fair enough,” he says unexpectedly, wiping down the table.
I stare at the bulging basket of blueberries, wondering what the hell I’m going to do with them.
Make twenty blueberry pies?
It’s not a terrible idea.
I love baking and it’s the only thing in the kitchen I’m any good at, so this would be a great excuse to sharpen my skills.
Kane catches my eye again as he works around me silently.
I chew my lip, doing my best not to watch him too long.
I’ll admit, if you look past the good looks and rancid attitude, there might be a semi-decent human underneath.
My mind drift’s back to PopPop’s letter and whatever he hid in this house. Only, now it feels like I have more than family secrets to find.
What’s Kane Saint hiding?
Why does he need to occupy every waking second so badly?
What kind of demons is he trying to tame?
4
HOME SWEET HELL (KANE)
Too much goddamned bacon.
I’ve got the meat sweats in spades, but that’s not the only reason I’m burning up on a crisp autumn morning like this.
Only our first morning here, and while the kids are inside doing their homework, I’m out here scrubbing the hell out of this dock, erasing years of grime and mildew. I want to see how the boards look underneath.
It’s a pleasant autumn morning, the sun still as warm as a summer’s kiss but the air cool. The leaves are unholy, tinged with every shade of red, and the reflections on the water make me feel like I’ve stepped into a watercolor painting.
Maine is fucking incredible at its peak.
For a second, I stop working the brush, tilting my face up to the sun. I breathe out half my soul, feeling the stress melting away.