Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Good to know.” She smiles as we step outside, where a good-looking man with hair almost as light as hers is waiting.
“Hey.” He smiles at Beth, and she walks toward him, falling into his spread arms.
“James, this is Elora. Elora, my husband James,” she introduces as she curls into his side.
“Nice to meet you,” I offer him a smile.
“You too,” he replies before he kisses the top of her head. “You ready to get home?”
“Yes.” She yawns, then looks at me. “Night, Elora.”
“Good night. See you tomorrow morning.” I watch the two of them walk off to the parking lot; then I start toward my room.
Halfway down the sidewalk, I stumble when I see a tall figure wearing a black hoodie and shorts walking in my direction through the shadows of the trees. I wrap my hand around my keys in my pocket, and my heart beats wildly against my rib cage until I realize that the man approaching me is Roman. “You scared me.” I let out a breath.
“Sorry.” He gives me a half smile as I close the distance between us. “Did you have a good night?”
“Yeah, it was busy.”
“I noticed.” He turns with me as I walk toward our rooms, and I have the strangest urge to lean my weight into him.
“You looked busy too.” I glance up at him, and he drops his gaze to mine.
“I was catching up on emails and shit for work,” he replies, and I nod as we take the stairs side by side. “I spoke to your real estate agent today.”
“You did? I thought you were just looking it up in your fancy real estate agent system.” I take out my keys.
“I called to ask him about your property when he didn’t respond to my email.”
“Oh.” I open the door to my room and toss my purse onto my bed. When I turn to face him, he’s standing in the doorway with his hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. “You can come in.” He hesitates, then steps into the room, shutting the door. I open the small closet, toeing off my shoes, and ask, “What did he say?”
“I told him I was interested in purchasing it, and he immediately told me about some other properties he has.”
I turn to look at him over my shoulder as I start to take off my sweater. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that normal?” I pull my sweater over my head, leaving my tank top on, then turn to face him after grabbing a hanger.
“No.”
“Do you think I should find another real estate agent?”
“That land is beautiful, Elora,” he says softly while his expression fills with something so sweet it makes my throat tight. I hang up my sweater as he continues. “Even with the shitty job the photographer did, you can see how picturesque it is.”
I swallow. “I know.”
“You don’t want to keep it?”
“It’s not a matter of want.” I shake my head and close the closet door, then I walk to the chair in the corner of the room, falling into it. “My mom owed a lot of money to the state and even more to the government and hospitals. It will take me twelve lifetimes to earn enough to pay everything off and set things right.”
With a nod, he takes a seat on the end of my bed and leans toward me. “Then yes, you need another real estate agent. It’s obvious yours isn’t looking out for your best interest.”
“Great.” I sigh, picking at the frayed hem of my jean shorts. “Tomorrow, I’ll look into some other real estate agents.”
“I found a couple already and spoke to them about the situation. I’ll get your number and text you their information.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you eat?” he asks when my stomach rumbles so loudly he obviously hears it from where he’s sitting.
“I didn’t have enough time between housekeeping and the bar.”
“What’s open in town?”
“Nothing. All the restaurants in town open early and close early.” I roll my eyes when he gives me a disapproving look. “Don’t look at me like that. I have stuff to hold me over until morning.” I motion toward the bag sitting next to my bed.
He glances behind him at it. “Junk food.”
“It’s still food.”
“You do my head in.”
“Why?” I frown.
“Nothing.” He sighs while standing. “I have a couple of oranges and a banana in my room. I’ll go get them for you.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“You need to eat something that isn’t junk food,” he mutters, walking to the door and leaving it open as he steps out.
When he walks back in a minute later, he places one of the oranges and the banana on the dresser. I expect him to hand me the other orange, but instead, he begins to peel it, making a perfect spiral with the bright-colored rind.
“Thank you.” I take it when he hands it to me, then watch him walk to my bathroom, and hearing something hit the empty trash can, and the water turn on.