Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Waiting for me.
But she never was, and I have no one to blame but myself.
While I do want to try the Dutch baby, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach it.
Owen shrugs. “I love pancakes, especially when they are thicker.” He waggles his brows. “I’m a lover of all things thicker. Have you seen my wife lately? All swollen with my kid? Jesus Christ on a cracker, it’s hard to keep my hands off her.” Telly chuckles as Owen bites his knuckle.
“Let her find out the plant died because you knocked it over with your bag, and she’ll never touch you again,” I tease, and his eyes go wide.
His brows shoot up and his face blanches. “Bro, what the hell? I thought we were friends.”
I send him a grin as he punches my shoulder before I lock the doors to my black Range Rover and make sure my glasses are covering my eyes.
Telly sends me a curious look. “Bro, no one is going to know it’s you here in the backwoods of Virginia.”
She will, and I need a moment to drink her in before I approach her.
I ignore him as we head inside, and I direct us to a back booth where I can watch the door to see when she comes in. My PI couldn’t get her address, and the only reason he got the photo was because he stopped to eat here. When he tried to question the staff, no one would give him any information. He came here for three days trying to get some intel, but she would show up for her shift and then disappear. She didn’t drive up; she just appeared. Looking around, I assume there is an upper floor to the diner, and I wonder how the PI didn’t notice that.
How much am I paying this dude?
I check my phone again, looking at the address of the diner along with the photo of her.
It has to be her.
This has to be over with.
I’m unable to do this anymore.
A petite waitress comes over, and Telly is all over her. He has her blushing and promising him the best Dutch baby in the state before she basically skips away.
“I love women,” he mutters as he leans back in the booth, his brown eyes full of mischief.
“Wait till you find the one. It’s like Christmas morning every day,” Owen says with a knowing grin.
Happy sap.
“Okay, Owen. We all know you’re in love and happy. Stop trying to domesticate us,” Telly accuses. “I am a feral tomcat—let me roam.”
“More a feral raccoon,” I add despite my nerves, though my lips even curve up of their own accord. I’m glad the guys came, but I’m not ready for them to know why we’re here. Owen knows Audrina, and while Telly knows of her, only our families know she has run away, cutting off all of us. Everyone knows we had a falling-out, some witnessed it, so it’s easy to explain her absence.
But I’m done explaining it. I want her home.
I swallow hard as I keep my gaze on the door and along the back counter, where I notice a stairwell leading up. I have the urge to go up it, to see if that’s where she is hiding.
But I don’t have to.
The revolving door at the entrance flies open, and there she is.
My whole body goes on alert. My armpits sting, my stomach drops, and breathing…fuck, it’s not an option. All I can do is stare at her.
Audrina Maria Hawkins.
Her hair is almost black, unlike the strawberry-blond she’s had since birth, but still, she’s put it in her “get shit done” style. It’s up in a wild bun of wavy locks with a pencil in the knot. She always wore her contacts before, but from the photo, I know she is wearing glasses now. Thick ones that I’m sure she hopes hide those hazel eyes of hers and her lush lashes. Audrina has always been a natural kind of girl, but no matter the amount of makeup she’s used to cover every inch of her freckles, I know it’s her. I have spent years memorizing everything about her. The plumpness of her lips, the curve of her Cupid’s bow. The little turn up of her dainty nose. How her left eye slants more than her right. How she has the most perfect beauty mark right where a nose ring could be. She has freckles over her brows, along the top of her lip, hell everywhere.
At one time, I had counted over one hundred and twenty-three freckles on her sweet face. My biggest regret besides the one about her running off is that I never counted the ones along her shoulders, her chest, her stomach. No. Instead, I acted a fucking fool, and she took off.
Damn it.
It’s her.