Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
I slow down at the crosswalk to let a few moms with strollers pass in front of me, using the extra time to observe the scene.
Aleksander’s dressed to the nines as usual in a white linen suit today. Ros has a silvery designer dress on, all slouchy bits of fabric that leave her two seconds away from flashing half the town. Her hair’s a mess, her mascara sweat-runny—or is that from crying?
My blood temperature drops a few degrees.
Damn, I don’t know, but she doesn’t look all that distressed. She’s just wearing the same neutral out-of-it look that’s becoming too normal for her.
Ephraim Jacobin is the one who really seems out of place here, coming down from the hills to hobnob with an Arrendell.
My hands tighten on the wheel.
Remembering what happened with Delilah Graves, it wouldn’t be the first time, and we know what was going on there.
Ephraim leans in close to them both, this human scarecrow in handstitched overalls and a cotton shirt under a huge grey trench coat, his thick grey-black beard pouring down his chest. The rest of his face is hidden as usual by the broad brim of his hat.
I still get a nasty flash of his hard, shielded eyes and his teeth as he glances over his shoulder.
Something changes hands between them.
Both Ephraim and Aleksander tuck something into their pockets.
Nope. Don’t like this shit at all.
Shame I got no probable cause to stop them just for having a friendly conversation in broad daylight, but dammit, I want to.
Nothing about this scene sits right with me.
I’d bet both nuts it’s something shady.
Of course, I’ve always had my suspicions about the Jacobins, what with their unmarked trucks full of moonshine and God only knows what else—especially after their favorite son was found with a brick of cocaine before his arrest.
Maybe it’s nothing.
But maybe it’s a whole lot of something, too. Especially when there’s no chance in hell Ros would be slumming around with the hillfolk in her right mind.
More importantly, the last time the Arrendells had big dealings with those moonshine-brewing dickheads up in the hills, women wound up dead.
Are we really gonna sit here and let tragedy strike twice?
Last time, the new girl in town almost became their latest victim.
This time, the new girl in town is my girl, and no, maybe she’s not in overt danger—not yet—but I don’t think it’s unconnected.
When something weird’s up with Ros, Aleksander, and the Jacobins right around the time someone in Arrendell livery is stalking my girl, it reeks to high hell.
I shake my head instinctively.
I won’t let anything happen to Ophelia—or to her little sister, no matter how big of a mistake she’s making with Aleksander.
I’ll be keeping my eyes glued to that slimy prick, every second I’m not watching out for Ophelia.
One bad apple off the gnarled Arrendell tree already raised too much hell in this town.
Letting another one strike so close to home would be too tragic—and definitely too soul killing to ever live down.
14
ONE SPICY DINNER (OPHELIA)
I wonder if Grant still likes his meals slathered in sriracha.
I stand in the grocery store aisle, studying a few bottles from different brands.
Hot sauce was a staple back when we were kids. First the good old Louisiana pepper sauces, then the more exotic options that started trending and seems designed to make you cry.
Ethan and I couldn’t handle the spicy stuff—but Lord knows we pretended to keep up and gave into stupid kid food dares—while Grant could probably eat a mouthful of Carolina Reapers whole without blinking.
I remember the first time Ethan brought his new best friend home for dinner. Grant brought his own freaking hot sauce and offended my mom mightily by dumping it all over her cooking.
Eventually, she realized that’s just Grant, and the insult turned into an ongoing joke that never failed to make us laugh.
Oh, if Mom could only see me now, staring at these neon-red bottles of hot sauce and wondering if there’s anything I can cook that will be fiery enough for that giant grump.
He found you pretty fiery last night, at least.
Oh, God. That’s terrible.
Laughing at my own dumb joke, I cover my mouth with one hand.
Yeah, I’m a flustered wreck right now.
Grinning for no good reason, blushing every other minute, and all I’m trying to do is pick up groceries.
I certainly didn’t have 'domestic goddess' on my coming home to Redhaven bingo card, yet here I am.
Is it really just this easy? Is anything?
Grant and I just falling back into each other, only it’s ten times better than just being friends.
Because now all my girlish dreams have come true and then some.
I just wish Mom and Ethan were here to see it.
I wish they could give me endless crap about it, teasing me up and down.
I’d kill to hear them tell me my stubbornness paid off, this hopeless girl mooning after an oblivious moose of a man for a flipping decade.