Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
When Landon does learn who I am, we’ll have a good laugh about it. That will be the story that the mountain man tells at our wedding. Yep, that will be a much sweeter ending. But if I want to have my happy ending, first I have to get to know the bossy grump outside.
After I leave the bathroom, I sign a few sheets of paper for Gabby and give her my credit card number. Then it’s not long before I’m on the road with the grump himself.
“Where do you live?” I ask after we’ve been in silence for a few minutes. Why is this man so quiet? Doesn’t he have all these words bubbling up inside of him that just have to be shared or he’ll explode?
“The mountains.”
I wait for him to ask me a question because that’s what you do in polite conversations. The other person is at least supposed to feign interest in you, except that I don’t think this man will even bother pretending. “What’s your name?”
He hesitates for a second too long. It’s the tell that he isn’t being truthful with me. “Blade.”
“That’s not really your name,” I scoff.
“And you didn’t really have a boyfriend,” he reminds me. “So, why are you here in a little place like Courage? It’s not like we’re a huge tourist attraction.”
I can feel my cheeks flush. At least, it’s dusk outside so the cab isn’t very light. “The GPS unit in my car is malfunctioning again.”
He makes a noise of disbelief in the back of his throat. “Is there anything truthful you can tell me?”
I huff out a sigh, surprised by how well Blade can read me. It’s Landon that’s supposed to be able to do this. It’s Landon that should know how to read my moods and figure out how I really feel. “My name is Gwen, and I’m here to find my soulmate.”
4
BLADE
“Your soulmate?” I repeat in the too small truck cab that now smells like her. My heart is pounding. How could my Gwen be here looking for her soulmate?
“You don’t have to say it like that,” she argues, but there’s a quiet note in her voice. She doubts herself or at least, this mission. Good. I don’t want her with some other man. No one else should get to touch those luscious curves or kiss her cherry red lips.
“You believe in that non-sense?” I know she does. She has to if she spends her days writing about women that find their very own happy endings. Fuck, I want that for her. I want her to be happy and to know love and desire. But no one around here is good enough for her.
“I’m a romance writer. It’s one of the side effects of the job. I always believe in the happy ending.” Her cat meows beside her as if confirming what she said. He’s in a carrier between us on the seat, a plushy one with comfortable cushions and what looks like a fluffy blanket.
“Yeah, but why are you looking for your soulmate here? Do you just move from place to place in search of him?” I’ve watched her videos. She lives in Charleston. She lives in a sunny little beachfront property, and she writes regularly at a café down the street from her home. She’s never mentioned travel in the videos. But surely, she’s not here for me. She can’t be.
“Can I tell you a secret?” She asks before continuing on anyway, “You’re going to think this is really dumb. But there’s this guy. He narrates my books, and I think—no, I know—we’re meant to be. We’re soulmates even though I don’t know all that much about him. I do know he lives here. Any chance you know a Landon Shaw?”
I’m quiet for a long moment. If there were ever a time to take a chance and confess my true identity, this would be it. But soulmates don’t actually exist. Happy endings don’t happen, and guys like me don’t get to keep the beautiful ball of sunshine that bounces into their lives. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Well, do you think it would for someone else in town?”
“Unlikely.” My friends are the only people that know what I do, and they wouldn’t bring that up in casual conversation.
“Oh,” she sighs out the word.
Her disappointment hits me straight in the gut and for some crazy reason, I want to fix this for her. I want to find a way to give her the soulmate she’s looking for. “Why do you want to find this guy so badly anyway?”
“Don’t you want to find your soulmate?”
And disillusion some poor woman against the whole idea of love and marriage? No thanks with a capital no. I’m sure as hell not a saint, but I’ve never broken a woman’s heart either. Still, I search for a soft answer, something that won’t hurt the beauty beside me. “Sometimes, being alone is a good thing.”