Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
It was a lot of skin showing for me.
But I felt a surge of confidence as I spritzed on a little perfume and reached for my daily purse, ready to transfer just the essentials into a smaller going-out bag.
“Oh, no. Oh, damnit damnit damnit,” I hissed as I searched through my usual bag looking for the ticket that should have been in there. “Oh, come on,” I grumbled, ripping open the inner zipper where I knew I would only find tampons, but refusing to believe I’d somehow managed to lose my ticket. “How the hell…” I started before it came to me.
I’d taken it out of my purse at work to take a silly, but aesthetic, picture to post online.
I must have gotten distracted and set it down instead of putting it back where it belonged.
“Damnit,” I whimpered, shoving what I needed into my going-out bag as I realized I was going to have to go back to the banquet hall to look for it.
The closed banquet hall, I might add.
The banquet hall I wasn’t so sure I was allowed to go back into after the closing of the workday. Even if I had a key. Even if I had the codes to the security system.
In fact, I was almost certain I was never supposed to go into the place after the workday concluded.
The last thing I wanted was to put my job at risk, but I’d also been looking forward to this concert for almost a year when my favorite band had announced a reunion tour. It could literally be the last time I would ever get to see them.
And my stupid ass had bought the tickets at the venue itself instead of online where I probably could have just re-printed new ones.
Ugh.
Okay.
I had to do it.
If someone ever found out and confronted me, I could claim that our super demanding and fickle new client was demanding a picture of the linens that had come in. No one would question that. And no one would want to call the client and ask her if it was true because, well, no one wanted to deal with her. They pushed her off on me because I was new and because I was too non-confrontational to tell them no.
It was a solid alibi, but there was no denying the way my palms got damp and my heart sped into overdrive as I made my way across town toward the hall.
It was actually my favorite of the four banquet halls owned by the company. They were all unique in their own way based on the architecture of the buildings they’d moved into. But this one had actually been a massive barn back when the property it was on had been a farm, before the owners cut it up and sold it off to developers.
But the barn still stood, clearly built in a way that would last.
And because rustic-chic was still a trend, it was one of our busiest halls.
I couldn’t blame anyone who would choose The Grove House over the others we had to offer. The exposed walls and wooden ceiling beams felt intimate and laid-back. But it could easily be made up to look fit for a royal family if the client wanted that as well.
I’d taken far too many pictures of not only the inside but the grounds as well with their aged willow trees and trailing vines over the trellises and arbors.
I could see myself getting married there one day.
You know, if I could ever find a guy who was interested in things like commitment anymore.
I must have been too busy focusing on my anxiety about going back into the hall when I knew I shouldn’t have been, because I’d missed the car in the parking lot as I rushed to the back door, plugging in the code, and unlocking the door.
The back of the building was the only new addition, put on so that there was room for storage, the staff offices, but also a changing and gathering area for both the bride and her party and the groom and his party. It wasn’t as pretty as the actual barn, that was for sure, but Matteo or whoever he hired to design it had good taste. The floors were striped African wood and the walls were painted this soothing olive green that always made me feel like I could breathe a sigh of relief when I walked inside.
Except for when I was, technically, breaking in, of course.
I felt like there was a hand closed around my throat as I rushed down the hall on my tippy toes to make less noise even though I was clearly alone since the entire place was darkened.
I didn’t even use the flashlight on my phone as I went into the barn area to look for the ticket that I was pretty sure I must have left with the pile of boxes of white twinkle lights I’d put aside for one of the maintenance guys to use to replace the old ones with that were starting to go out.