Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Cool it,” I scold, pointing at the screen. “Trust me, there’s no romance going on. He thinks I’m an idiot.”
“Ugh.” She squeezes her eyes shut, practically vibrating with glee. “Classic enemies to lovers.”
I groan, dragging my hand down my face. “Stop.”
“Seriously, he must like you a little. He’s not gifting necklaces to every tourist who rocks through town, is he?”
“I don’t think so. He sells them in the shop or something.”
“Admit it. You like him.” She purses her lips like a pleading child. “You need some romance in your life, Emery. You haven’t been on a date since Valentine’s Day when that dude brought a guitar with him to dinner.”
“Ick, don’t remind me. That was so bad, I should have applied for victim compensation.”
Her grin grows devilish. “Aw, come on, you have to applaud the effort. It could’ve been romantic.”
“Yeah, if he didn’t spend the entire night playing his original songs.” I pause for dramatic effect. “About how he’s still in love with his ex.”
“What I’m trying to say is, you deserve something fun.” She tilts her head and sends me a stern stare. “That isn’t work.”
“Work is fun for me.”
“You need a fling with a hot, brooding guy,” she insists. “A frolic in his sheets, if you will.”
“I don’t frolic.”
“I’m aware.” Her tone borders on lecturing. “You deserve some orgasms that don’t come courtesy of a rechargeable device.”
“Why? At least my devices deliver every time.” I lift my chin, indignant that I have to defend my WeVibe’s honor. “Besides, Declan’s too hot to be good in bed. No organic orgasms to be had there.”
Based on his finger-sucking abilities, that’s probably a big, fat lie.
“Emery, I say this with love.” Her tone’s serious instead of teasing this time. “But I’ve known you for a long time, and I can tell when you’re full of shit.”
“Fine. He’s probably the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I blurt in an embarrassed rush of honesty. “Happy now?”
A sly smile curves her lips. “You need to send me a picture.”
“He won’t answer any of my questions, you really think he’ll let me snap a photo?”
“What’s the name of his tattoo shop again?” She turns away from her phone and taps her fingers on her laptop.
“House of Ink and Iron.”
A few seconds later, her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! His artwork is really beautiful. Talented guy.” She slides her mischievous gaze toward me again. “If you can’t coax some orgasms from him, definitely get some ink.”
I roll my eyes but my stomach flutters with anxiety. I couldn’t sit still long enough to let Declan do something as intimate as tattoo my skin. Could I? I glance at my ink-free arms. I’ve always wanted to get a crow or feather somewhere.
“I’ll think about it,” I answer.
Wren hoots with laughter. “That’s my girl. Now, tell me, what’s the plan for today?”
“Library,” I say, forcing my thoughts away from Declan’s rough fingers grazing my body while his needle permanently marks my skin. “I want to look through old newspapers, any relevant town records. Check missing person stories. There’s been more than one disappearance in this town. Someone has to have written about it.”
“If anyone can squeeze a confession from a filing cabinet, it’s you,” Wren encourages.
“Thanks.”
“Text me if you find anything exciting.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “And if you have any more encounters with Declan.”
“I’m going to try to interview him again.”
“Good. Film it. And send me whatever you got last night so I can start going through it.”
“All right.”
We disconnect and I grab my laptop, sitting at the small desk against the wall to upload the files she needs.
A knock on my door startles me away from my work. “Breakfast!” someone calls out.
Please let that include coffee. I hurry and open the door.
The woman who’d checked me in yesterday morning stands there, holding a grease-stained paper bag and a paper cup with a white lid and steam curling from the top.
“Good morning, Mrs. Applewood,” I greet.
“You hadn’t been downstairs yet. I didn’t want you to miss out. I baked these this morning. They’re maple apple crumb muffins.”
My mouth waters. “Sounds heavenly.” My hand shoots out, all but snatching the bag out of the elderly woman’s hand. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem, dear.” She hands me the coffee. “I saw Mr. Sterling walked you back last night…”
Does the woman ever sleep? She was spying on me after midnight and up early baking muffins? I need to get my act together. “He did.”
She raises an eyebrow like she’s waiting for a detailed report.
Now’s my chance to gather information. “Do you know Declan…I mean Mr. Sterling well?”
“Oh yes.” She beams. “The Sterlings were one of the first families in Crowsbridge Hollow.”
I perk up, clutching the warm bag of muffins in one hand while casually taking a sip of coffee. “Really? How far back are we talking?”