Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“You didn’t, Dolly. I was just chatting with the newest resident of Eagle’s Landing.”
She stepped up to the counter and gave me a thorough once-over. “Oh, I haven’t seen you around town yet.” She jutted out her hand and I had no choice but to take it without appearing ruder than normal.
I did not miss the amusement in Rett’s eyes, but I ignored it.
The older woman gave our clasped hands an unexpectedly firm shake. “I’m Dolores Monaghan, the mayor’s wife. You can call me Dolly.”
“And an avid reader,” Rett added with a wink to Dolly. “She alone keeps the store in business. As well as Timber’s belly full of treats.”
“I’m retired. What else do I have to do?” she asked with a gleam in her eyes.
“You told me it’s a full time job keeping Chet in line.”
“Yes, that’s true,” she said with a laugh. “Next to every successful man stands an even stronger woman.” She winked at me. “That’s my version.”
It was probably a very accurate version, too.
I gave the older woman an awkward smile. She had to be at least a foot shorter than me, if not more. Not only was her long skirt bright pink but she wore a bright lime green blouse, a pair of purple Crocs and rainbow-colored striped socks.
Obviously, Eagle’s Landing wasn’t any kind of fashion mecca.
Dolly once again set her blue eyes on me. “And your name?”
A soft snort came from behind the counter.
I closed my eyes for a second to prevent them from rolling out of my head and down one of the aisles. “Chase.”
“Ah yes, Chet did blather on the other night at dinner about a new resident in town who bought the old Coleman cabin. It’s Chase…” She snapped her fingers. “Chase Jones, right?”
Shit. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, welcome to the most boring town you’ll ever live in. Even our gossip is boring.”
“I’m perfectly fine with boring.”
“Good, then you’ll love it here.” She turned back to Rett. “Whelp, handsome, I’m trading in these two books and picking up the last one available in the series. Too bad the next one isn’t out yet. They’re almost as addictive as yours.”
They’re almost as addictive as yours.
My heart did a little tumble. Had she recognized me?
No, she wasn’t saying that to me, she was saying that to the man behind the counter.
Huh. He must be some kind of writer. Or wannabe writer.
Everyone and their brother thought they could write a book. They thought it was so damn easy. Hell, if it was, I would’ve banged out the next book in my Nick Foster series two years ago.
The truth was, it was far from easy. Writing a good book was difficult and could be mentally taxing, depending how intricate the plot was.
But if Rett was a writer, that also meant I had one more thing in common with him besides our love of books.
Son of a bitch.
Rett shot her a grin. “That’s kind of you, Dolly, but my writing doesn’t even compare. I only wish I had the same level of talent as this author.”
Dolly wagged a finger at him. “Oh, don’t sell yourself short, handsome. You might not be an international star yet, but you certainly are a local one.” With that and a wink, she turned and headed toward the wall of shelves that held the crime thrillers, suspense novels and mysteries.
With a frown, my eyes flicked to the books Dolly had set on the counter.
For shit’s sake. They were my books.
My books.
I needed to get out of there. Like ten minutes ago.
Without another word, I bolted out the door.
I heard a deep, “Hey!” right before it shut behind me.
CHAPTER 3
Rett
What the hell?
Chase Jones—if that was even his real name—acted like he’d seen a freaking ghost. And, even weirder, he had rushed out of the store like one was chasing him.
The man was…
Not odd… different.
He seemed not only closed off and even anti-social, he was…
I wasn’t sure how to describe it.
Broken, possibly. Or emotionally damaged by the way he looked, the way he spoke and how he interacted.
Just like the other morning when I first spotted him at the diner, dark half-moons still marred his face under the dark brown, but dull, eyes.
He seemed emotionally empty inside. Clinging to life by only his fingernails.
He was either hiding something or running from something.
Either could be possible and both would be a good reason for him to move to Eagle’s Landing and buy the Coleman cabin. Most folks looking for a new beginning didn’t move to a remote town that only provided the bare minimum. Someone in hiding usually did.
To be fair, it could be that Chase, prior to moving here, had no clue about small town living and would eventually regret it—if he already didn’t—because where he chose could be considered hiding in plain view. He picked a place where everyone would learn his name and, unfortunately, his personal business.