Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Agreed,” a woman said. “Look at the woodwork. Exquisite.”
“Look at that rug,” someone else said. “It kinda changes as you look at it, see?”
“Oh yeah,” a man replied. “Very interesting.”
Austin hadn’t had a chance to talk much about the business side of this territory, too preoccupied with everything else going on. If he could just calm down all the aggression and plays for power—if he could get the naysayers out of the way—he could have some meaningful meetings. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to get a few production cairns into some shifter territories, even if just for shipping purposes. There was an opportunity there; he just needed the time to discuss it.
Mr. Tom waited in the doorway leading off to the kitchen. “Welcome. If you’ll follow me, the miss is waiting for your arrival.” He looked down the line of shifters following Austin, didn’t bother greeting them, and stepped out to lead. “Those infernal garhettes are running around like this is some kind of carnival. Watch yourself if you get a drink off any of them. They might serve you all manner of things you didn’t ask for and don’t want. They’ll take the shirts off your backs if you give them half the chance. The clothing will come back with so much starch that it will be walking on its own.”
Austin hadn’t spent much time in the house since the garhettes had arrived to help out, and now he was glad. They were probably doing an amazing job, and that fact would severely ruin Mr. Tom’s day.
“That must be the butler that gives flak,” someone murmured from behind them.
“I would never!” Mr. Tom said, half looking back to deliver his outrage. “You must be thinking about those busybody garhettes, asking all manner of questions. I know what small talk is, and asking about one’s past is hardly that.”
Austin grinned at Kingsley, whose demeanor had become stoic. Ever since being chased around by the dolls, he hadn’t been able to totally relax here. Austin didn’t blame him.
“Grandma Mimi has been handling the restoration of Ivy House,” he told the murmuring shifters, still noticing all the little details. “You could wander around for an entire day and only capture part of the historic riches this place has to offer.”
“Should you really be telling this to new acquaintances?” someone asked in the back. Sounded like Black-Haired Ron.
“Ivy House has its own defense system,” Austin said with a smirk. “Magically speaking, this house is alive. It is listening to you right now. It has the ability to trap you in its depths. In here, it isn’t just the dolls you have to worry about. You wouldn’t want to step out of line. That’s the only warning I’ll give you.”
“When do we get a tour?” a woman asked.
“Thursday, if you like,” Austin said.
The alphas continued to murmur behind him as they reached the back door. Mr. Tom opened it and stepped out, peeling off to the side.
“Drink, sir?” he said to Austin.
“Scotch, neat.”
“Kingsley?” Mr. Tom said.
“Same.”
“No gratitude needed, I assure you.” Mr. Tom sniffed. “I am used to those raised in barns.”
Kingsley gave Mr. Tom a flat expression but continued walking with Austin.
“I think he’s gotten worse,” he said.
“He’s riled up with so many people in the house and being forced to accept help.”
“Being forced to accept help?”
“Yes. Don’t bother questioning; it won’t make sense even if I explain it—”
His words cut off as he took in the backyard. Tiki torches flickered in the darkness all around the perimeter of the grass. Little tables dotted the way, most high, some low with chairs. Flowers sat on tabletops in lovely vases, resting on doilies, and Austin bet all of them were oddly shaped. Four canopies had been set up off to the left. Within stretched long tables, upon which sat steaming heating elements keeping food warm.
A large group of people, all magical types, stood around chatting. Most wore casual clothing—jeans and T-shirts or open collars and loose pants—and just as many had ditched their shoes to walk barefoot in the grass. The latter decision couldn’t have been to prepare for challenges, because everyone’s body language was just as casual and relaxed as the dress code. The crowd pushed all the way to the tree line, where garhettes lingered with random weapons pulled from households. They were holding the line against the gnomes.
This place was so damn weird.
Jess walked out of the crowd with a glass of wine. She wore a summery dress and no shoes, hair falling down around her beautiful face in waves. She gave Austin a warm smile.
“Hey, babe.” She stopped in front of him and angled her face up for a kiss. Afterward, he pulled himself away even though he wanted to linger, and she said, “Hi, Kingsley.”
Austin slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in tightly. “What’s all this?”