Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
The redhead grinned, his freckled nose crinkling as his fingers clicked the register keys. “Very wise. Where are you staying? I only ask because my mom runs a cleaning business, and she takes care of most of the rentals.”
“It belongs to a friend of mine, but he’s never rented it. He probably should, though. It’s on Red Oak…I think.”
“Ooh! The football house! Yep, Mom cleans that one. I’ve been inside…very nice,” he gushed, then did that wrinkled-nose thing again. “That sounded creepy, huh? I swear, I’m normal…ish. I’m Davey, by the way.”
“Silas.”
Davey beamed. “Hang tight, Silas. I’ll grab your drinks.”
He zipped away, his hips swaying seductively as he filled the to-go cups. Davey had a nice ass and—
Whoa.
I blinked, surprised that I’d let my guard down for even a fraction of a moment. No staring at hot guys. Retired or not, that was a fucking rule.
I tapped my credit card and returned it to my wallet while the barista bagged my coffee beans and pastries. “Thanks.”
“Let me get a tray for your drinks.”
“That’s okay. They’ll keep my hands warm.”
“Smart thinking. Be careful out there, and if you need anything, call Cooper. He’s your neighbor on your”—Davey swiveled his slim hips sideways and wiggled the arm closest to me—“right. He’s a great guy.”
“And Coop’s a lot less chatty than Davey here,” the woman behind me in line piped in. “C’mon, slowpoke. Blizzard alert, blizzard alert.”
I chuckled at the middle-aged woman’s good-natured razzing, thanked Davey, and moved to the door.
A bracing gust of cold wind nearly knocked me off my ass the second it opened. I shivered in my Canada Goose jacket and took a fortifying sip of really good coffee.
The weather sucked, but coffee was life, so things were already looking up.
I crossed to the opposite side of Main Street, guzzling my java like a champ. I finished one cup and dumped it in the bin, then started on the croissants, chomping away as I took in the scenery: two boutiques, a photo lab with dozens of high school football pics on display, and an ice cream parlor with a sign taped to the door that read, “See you next spring, Wood Hollow!”
Bake with Bea Bakery’s window featured a variety of cakes, cupcakes, cookies, and pies on white stands. Next door was a drugstore called Foxy’s that had Target or Walmart aspirations with racks of nail polishes and moisturizers, jumbo bags of M&M’s and a display of brooms and mops gave “something for everyone” vibes.
The storefronts were appealing enough, but there was no one shopping. Most of the town had probably gotten the weather memo and opted to stay home. I was ready to hunker down too. I had no idea what I was going to do all day. Read a book? Watch a fuckton of movies? Val did have a home gym, thank fuck. I could figure it out after I ordered a taxi and bought some groceries.
I called the number Cooper had given me for Jed the taximan and got his answering machine. I left a message, tucked my cell into my pocket, and picked up my pace.
The walk back to the market was a mini nightmare. My sneakers didn’t stand a chance. I could barely feel my toes, and my second coffee was long gone. Long story short, I was cold, uncomfortable, and I had to pee.
Wood Hollow Market had a log cabin exterior that complemented the mill, which was located off Main, but within a snowball’s throw of the store’s parking lot with a row of snow-laden evergreens in between.
I hurried inside, sighing with relief at the marked difference in temperature as I grabbed a cart. I didn’t need a lot of groceries, just some basics to get through the storm—milk, eggs, butter, cereal, bread, fruit, oatmeal, chicken, two frozen pizzas, and some canned soup. And cookies.
Okay, I’d gone overboard; however, I wasn’t in the mood to intellectualize my purchases. My socks were wet, my fingers were icicles, and holy shit, snow was still pouring from the sky like a kid upending a bag of flour. At this rate, I was going to be stuck in the house for a couple of days, and I had to eat.
“Good morning! Getting some goodies before the storm hits?”
I smiled at the petite twentysomething behind the register. “It looks like it’s arrived.”
She pivoted on her heels to peek out the window. Her long curly brown hair swayed like a pendulum as she turned to face me, revealing rosy cheeks, and a button nose. The nametag pinned to her hunter-green apron read, Mandy. “Not yet. This is the warmup act.”
My eyes widened in dismay. “You’re sure it’s not the main event?”
“Nope. The sky isn’t dark enough. It’s coming, though. Where are you from?” she asked conversationally.
“California.”
Mandy set a hand on her heart and gasped. “I’ve never been, but it’s on my bucket list. I have to see the Hollywood sign and the Golden Gate Bridge someday. It’s a must.”