Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“That’s what I paid for. Prompt delivery of a lot of lumber. We broke ground last month, concrete has been set, and we’re rolling. You have the wood, don’t you?”
“Yeah, we have it. I’ll do my best to get it to you early, but there’s a fair chance you’ll receive part of it at noon and—”
“Not acceptable,” he barked. “Listen Cunningham, when you took over for the Larsons…”
I tuned him out. I wondered how long it would take for locals to stop referring to how the Larsons did things. It wouldn’t do any good to remind them that the Larsons had literally done business in the middle of a forest and couldn’t supply half the lumber we’d delivered.
I’d been working my ass off for months, and nothing moved fast enough in a town with one fucking streetlight. Go figure.
“Glen, I understand where you’re coming from. We’ll do our best.” I hung up on the man sputtering indignantly on the line and reached for my Stetson. I needed a breather.
My cell buzzed with a new text and an incoming call. I read the text from Denny first.
Meet me at the Black Horse after work? I have a friend in town who wants to meet you.
I sent Denny a thumbs-up emoji and answered the call.
“You’re alive!” Cassy shouted into the connection. “How’s it hangin’, Hankster?”
I chuckled. “Not bad. How’re you?”
“Peachy. I wanted to give you an update on the Crane kid. Better yet, I’ll send you a video in three, two, one—check your messages. I have a kid from Golden starting next week and the hospital referred me for an outpatient gig, so I guess I’m calling to see how long you’ll be stuck in the trees doing tree things.”
I moved to the doorway and looked past Emily’s desk to the controlled chaos of the mill. Cooper spotted me and tilted his head in a friendly acknowledgment. Everyone else ignored me…including Emily. Just another day at the office, wishing I was at the stable, hanging out with the horses.
A call from home reminding me of what I’d given up couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Except, that wasn’t entirely accurate. Don’t get me wrong, I loved being with Bess and Fred, but I wasn’t itching to go home. My mind was buzzing with ideas for this town. Wood Hollow needed new life and a purpose—better roads, better shops, better…everything. I couldn’t help thinking the mill could be part of that growth. Maybe.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “A couple of months.”
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
“I am. I’m just…” Failing at life, a.k.a. floundering as CEO, falling for a hockey player who’d be gone in a matter of days. I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. And I’m glad Max is doing well. Tell him hi for me.”
“Will do, Hank.”
I ended the call and glanced over at Emily who was motioning to me wildly. “What’s up, Em?”
“Lines one, two, three are for you. Glen Ackerman says you hung up on him, the saw thingy you had fixed is ready, and someone clogged the toilet in the men’s room. Again.”
Wow. Just wow.
Hey, it wasn’t all doom and gloom. We’d hired thirty more employees over the past few weeks, and things were running relatively smoothly. Dad was ecstatic and he was doing better health-wise. He’d improved to the point he was able to walk with a cane for short stints.
The general sense that things were progressing as planned made for pleasant conversations, but days like this felt like one step forward, two steps backward. It was frustrating. I was torn between wanting out and being afraid of what came next.
So I concentrated on the positive. I woke up with a sexy man in my bed. We fed the horses together, exercised them, stealing errant touches and kisses like newlyweds, then went to the house for breakfast before parting ways. Denny headed for the rink, I headed for Wood Hollow, and while we occasionally met for coffee or lunch at the diner, we usually waited till evening to see each other again.
He was busy with camp, and there were a fuckton of hockey players in town who’d wonder why he wasn’t hanging out with them. I understood. I wasn’t in a position to ask for more, so I took what I could get and did my best to make every second count.
And to not get aggravated with interruptions like the arrival of Mason Trinsky, Denny’s teammate from Denver.
Trinsky was an enormous tatted human with a jolly demeanor and a lust for life. He was the type of guy who challenged strangers to drinking games, bought rounds for the entire bar, and told outlandish stories that made you simultaneously roll your eyes and laugh. He was a loveable goofball and a force on the ice.
Denny told me Trinsky was the guy who’d looked out for him and made him feel at home in the NHL. I’d expected to like him, but I hadn’t expected Trinsky to know much about me. I was wrong.