Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I wandered over to the pool table and racked the balls, and then hung the sticks back up on the wall. My head tilted as I recalled the way Ivy League’s eyes had tracked my movements, watching my expression closely with each interaction. He was obviously a man used to being in control of every aspect of his life and so it’d been particularly satisfying to throw him off a few times. At the thought of the man who’d arrived in the bar doorway earlier that evening, soaked and steaming, my ribs tightened, and I felt a minor version of that pull I felt when I stared out to sea.
Why?
Why did that man inspire that same bewildering twinge? Maybe it was that just like the horizon, he too exhibited the concept of away.
I huffed out a breath, dropping the darts in the basket holder on the wall next to the board. There was no need to dwell on Ivy League because I’d never see him again and knowing my track record with men of society’s upper crust—of which he was definitely a member—that was a good thing.
I headed back into the kitchen and mixed up a quick batch of batter and then slid the tray of mini cake pans into the oven.
The office in the far back of the bar across from the restrooms was small and cramped but it worked for our needs. Romeo spent the most time here as he usually did the books, but he was off tonight and so it fell to me.
I spent twenty minutes counting the take from the register and separating it into petty cash and tomorrow’s bank deposit. There was a stack of bills that Romeo had left off to the side and I rifled through them quickly, one of them catching my eye. I picked it up and read through the quote for a new roof. Shit. I stuffed it back in the envelope. Every time the wind blew hard and rattled the shingles, I worried that we needed to undergo some restaurant renovations. Romeo obviously did too and had reached out to a company. God, just when we got a little bit ahead, something like this came up. I dropped the quote onto the desk and set the pile of bills back in place.
Cakes and Ale was a profitable business and it paid our salaries, but after the bills and the taxes and the constant fixes that the weather at the docks made necessary, there was little left over. As long as the fish kept jumping and the Mud Gulch fishermen kept reeling them in, we would continue serving them beer and clam chowder, but there would never be money for fancy things. Which…for me, was fine. I’d make do without fancy. So far, all fancy had done was bite me in the ass. But…for Romeo…
My gaze slid to the bottom right desk drawer and I reached down and used my index finger to pull it open. There they were, all the way at the back. I reached in and grabbed the stack of brochures and set them on the desk in front of me, my heart rate increasing as though I was handling stolen goods. They weren’t ill-acquired documents though. They were Romeo’s unfulfilled plans and dreams.
I fanned them across the desk, my gaze moving from the bright lights of New York City to the canals of Venice to the cliffs of Ireland. This was where Romeo’s pull came from. He’d identified his. The world called to him, just as it always had.
Before.
Before his personal world had turned upside down.
Before me.
My gaze lit on one I hadn’t seen before and I picked it up, unfolding the colorful ad. It was new. Romeo had added to the collection as recently as the last couple of weeks. Tuscany. My eyes moved over the lush rows of vineyards, to a stone inn and a sun-dappled courtyard with a low fence draped in lacy, white flowers. I could practically smell them from here, the scent of earth and honey overtaking the dankness of this back room that had once sustained water damage and never quite aired out.
The lingering odor of mildew remained.
A sudden knock at the front door made me jolt, my arm sweeping to the side and causing several of the brochures to go flying off the desk. I jumped up, going down on my knees and hurriedly collecting the ones that had fallen, placing the one for Tuscany on the top of the pile where it’d been as the knock sounded again.
What the hell? It was after two in the morning and Mud Gulch residents knew very well Cakes and Ale was closed for business.
I stood up and stuffed the brochures in the back of the drawer, kicked it closed and headed for the front door. I leaned in from the side and moved the short café curtain very slightly, so I could see who was out there, my heart giving a gallop when I saw it was…I moved the curtain farther aside to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me. Nope. It was definitely Ivy League. And he’d spotted me. He gave me a small wave and pointed at the front door, obviously asking permission to enter.