Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Matti hadn’t exaggerated with his warning about everyone pulling their weight around here. In the distance, we spotted more vehicles that he explained were the ranch’s employees getting around to do their duties.
We had just waved at an older man peeking through his front window when Henri asked, “Is there anything you’re good at?”
Keeping my attention through the windshield, I folded my hands on my lap and made a decision. Then I peeked at him. “Making quesadillas. Kickball. I’m really good at whistling.”
The way Henri turned to look at me….
I smiled.
Another muscle in his cheek, this one higher and further away from his jaw, flexed. “Being a brat too, I see.”
I burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? I’ve never been a brat.”
He faced forward, that cheek muscle popping again. Was he trying not to smile? Because that’s kind of what it looked like to me.
“I was just trying to cheer you up, you look tense, but shouldn’t the elders have asked me about that before they agreed to let me stay? You’re trying to figure out how I can help around here, aren’t you?”
“No and yes.” He wiped his expression clean the same way he had yesterday, like that was something he was used to doing, he did it so easily. Going from being a little amused to all business that fast was a talent. Or maybe it took a lot of practice. “Everyone contributes regardless of what they’re comfortable doing.” The side of his mouth twitched. “The kids are our road maintenance crew. They keep the paths clear.”
I snorted. “Are you serious?”
He was. “They make it a game; it isn’t child labor.”
They’d thought of everything. Literally everything. This place was a well-oiled machine.
“There’s another section where we have other buildings,” he explained just as his phone rang. Henri pulled it out, took in the screen for a moment, and answered. “Henri.”
Henri now. Not Blackrock. I catalogued that for later.
He listened, and his eyes narrowed by the second. “Where?... Send me the coordinates. I’ll be there as soon as I can. … I can’t go straight there. I’m by the greenhouses, and I’ll need to stop by the clubhouse first.”
I cleared my throat, but nothing happened. I did it again, louder, in the middle of him doing a full U- turn with one hand. “Ahem,” I tried for the third time.
Nothing.
I stuck my hand in front of his face and wiggled my fingers. That finally did it. “If this is an emergency, I can go with you.”
His eyebrows slammed down, flat.
“You’re wasting time,” I told him like he didn’t already know that. He’d mentioned the greenhouses and the clubhouse; whatever was going on was ranch business. “Let’s go.”
I could tell he was contemplating my offer from the way his eyes bounced from one of mine to the other, but so much faster than I would have expected, he nodded. “You won’t get in the way.”
Not a question but a statement, and I barely managed not to sigh or wink at him. “Yes, Fluffy. I will not get in the way, and we can pinky swear on it if you want.”
He put the phone back to his cheek and said he’d be there soon.
Then the werewolf man broke the community’s 5 mile an hour speed limit even more by 5 whole miles and took us off the path.
The smell and feel of magic got stronger and stronger with every minute we got deeper into their territory.
I felt like a superhero in the sun. Like I’d guzzled a couple of energy drinks back-to-back in a short period of time. My hands got twitchy, then full-on shaky, and I had to hold my breath like I was some kind of free diver who could do it for longer than fifteen seconds at a time. Because this place….
This had to be what a cat experienced around catnip.
I had to shove my hands between my thighs because I didn’t know what to do with them. If Henri could sense that I was going through something as we traveled, he didn’t say a word or even glance over, but that might have also been because he was driving over fallen logs and branches with one hand and holding his phone in the other while navigating using a map on the screen.
I thought of Duncan to focus on something else. I hoped he was doing okay. Making friends… the mini Benedict Arnold.
Part of me wanted to laugh at how he’d dumped me the second he could, and the other half was just a little bit still hurt over it. Little bit. Tiny bit. But this was exactly what I would have wanted if I’d had to pick. I didn’t want him to cling to me and cry and be scared. He was only a baby for now, sure, but he would grow up like every other living being on the planet, and he’d be a young adult, then an adult, and someday he would leave—nope, I couldn’t go there yet. Hard pass.