Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Go where?” she asked absently, making a note on her pad.
“To see West. And then Cole and Ford.” If I sounded grim it’s because I felt that way. Finding out my father had been murdered was one thing, but it didn’t touch the dread I felt at the prospect of seeing my brother.
Hopes eyes lifted to mine and she set down her pen. “That’s quite an agenda. You ready for that?”
“Absolutely not. I have to do it anyway and I’m dragging you along with me. Let’s go.”
Hope stood and looked down at herself. She wore another sweater, this one a V-neck in soft blue, and another pair of those tight jeans that made her ass look spectacular. “I can’t wear this. You have to wait—two minutes. Five minutes. I’ll be down in five minutes.”
“Hope—” I called after her.
She shouted back, “Five minutes.”
She didn’t have to dress up. This wasn’t a business meeting. I could almost guarantee West would be wearing jeans. I’d known West since grade school. Once upon a time, we’d been good friends. Good enough that he’d given me a couch to crash on the night Prentice tossed me out and had driven me to the army recruitment office in Asheville the next morning.
I’d lost touch with West when I left Sawyers Bend, but unless he’d changed, he’d always been a good guy. Also not one who’d wear a suit to work.
Cole was Ford’s lawyer. The Sawyers were paying his bills. He had to wear a suit. We didn’t. One of the perks of being the guy writing the check.
Clearly, this logic made no impression on Hope. I don’t know how she did it, but not quite ten minutes later, she strode down the stairs completely transformed, and not—thank God—in one of Edgar’s ugly suits.
Her hair had been pulled back into a soft bun, a few strands loose around her face, catching the light. She wore a suit, but unlike the others, this one had a fitted jacket and a knee-length skirt that managed to be both completely modest and also make the most of her slender curves.
Discrete pearls circled her neck, one at each earlobe, and a slim gold watch sat on one wrist. She was the picture of professional elegance, and she was undeniably gorgeous. The possessive lover inside of me didn’t want to let her out the door looking like that.
Everyone had written her off when she’d been plain, drab Hope. Now that the men in town could see her for the beauty she was, I’d have to beat them off with a stick. Fine, I could handle them. No one was taking Hope away from me.
“Let me grab my notebook from the office and I’ll meet you at the door.”
I watched her go, taking in the delicate pleats at the back of the suit jacket and the way it flared above her hips. I thought about following her to the office and bending her over the desk.
West wouldn’t mind if we were late. Well, yes, he would. But there was always later. There’d be time for Hope and the desk later.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Hope
The traffic wasn’t bad in town for a midmorning in March. By summer, it would take almost half an hour to get from one end of Main Street to the other. For now, the streets weren’t crowded and there was even parking here and there. I spied a spot in front of Sweetheart Bakery and called out, “Wait, stop here,” pointing to the empty parking space.
Griffen pulled smoothly into the spot and stopped. He looked ready to ask me what the hell was going on when his eyes caught the sign on the door. “Do they have coffee here?”
“Amazing coffee,” I told him. “I’m feeling the need for a cookie. Maybe toffee-chip. And a cappuccino. I thought we’d grab whatever West likes, kind of a peace offering.”
“Bribing the police chief?” Griffen asked, one eyebrow raised. The tease in his eyes made me want to lean in and kiss him. I didn’t, but I wanted to.
I raised an eyebrow back. “When was the last time you talked to West? Considering how close you two were in high school, I can’t imagine you threw him out with the rest of us.”
Griffen pressed his hand over his heart and shook his head. He was smiling, but regret was in his eyes. “Direct hit, Buttercup. Yeah, let’s go get something sweet and bring the police chief a peace offering. It’s been a long time. These better be some damn good cookies.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
I hadn’t seen Daisy in a few weeks. As expected, she wasn’t in the front of the shop. I ignored the line and strolled by the brightly lit bakery cases, my mouth watering at the plates of brownies, cookies, and pastries. Loaves of bread and rows of pies. Cakes. I zeroed in on the toffee-chip cookies. Exactly what I wanted.