What Happens at the Lake Read Online Vi Keeland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
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I guess word hadn’t gotten around that he’d dumped me yet—not surprising since Fox hated everyone knowing his business. But I wasn’t about to ignite a gossip fire. Plus, if I had to say the words out loud, I’d probably wind up crying again. It was bad enough that I had to hide behind dark sunglasses today because my eyes were so puffy. Luckily, my phone rang, giving me a perfectly timed excuse. I pulled it out of my purse and held it up as evidence without even checking the screen to see who it was.

“Sorry, Bernadette. I need to answer. I’ve been waiting for this call. But it was nice seeing you.”

“You too. Enjoy the weather today.”

I pushed the Ignore button, yet brought the phone to my ear as I walked away, waving. “Hello?” Once there was enough distance between Bernadette and me, I stopped pretending I’d answered and lowered my phone again. A few strides later, it beeped, letting me know I had a message. There was also a second message from a call I must’ve missed while I was in the shower earlier. I pressed play as I walked the rest of the block to the coffee shop.

“Hi. This message is for Josie Preston. My name is Florence Halloran, and I’m calling from Rehnquist University. We received your resume for the adjunct professor position, and I was calling to set up an interview.”

My heart sank. I’d completely forgotten I’d submitted an application online. It felt like so long ago, but it had only been four or five days. Yet so much had changed. Should I bother to call the woman back? Would I even consider staying in Laurel Lake now? I really liked it here. Life was simpler, and the pace was nothing like New York. And I’d made a lot of friends—not many my own age, but I was sure I’d meet plenty of younger people if I got the job at Rehnquist. I felt a true connection here—to nature, to the community, to my dad. The only thing people in Manhattan were connected to were their phones. But could I stay here and see Fox next door every day? The thought of pulling into my driveway while he walked another woman into his house after a date made me feel sick.

Oh God. Imagine if I heard them going at it through an open window?

The rest of the message from the woman at Rehnquist had finished playing, though I didn’t absorb it because I’d been too lost in thought. But it didn’t matter what she’d said since I wasn’t in the right headspace to make a decision about calling her back, so I kept the message, scrolled to the next one, and hit play.

“Hi, Josie. This is Lauren Cahill from HR at Kolax and Hahm. I sent you an email the other day to confirm you’ll be returning on the tenth, at the conclusion of your medical leave. I didn’t hear back, so I thought I’d check in. Please give me a call when you have time. Two-one-two—”

I swiped up to stop the message as I arrived at the front door of Rita’s. Everyone seemed to want a decision from me today, but I’d be lucky if I could pick the coffee I wanted. I tossed my phone back in my purse and decided to concentrate on that first. Caffeine would make facing the day easier.

“Hi, Rita.”

“Hey, Josie. What can I get you today?”

I stared up at the menu above her head. I read the first few coffee choices, but none of them seemed to sink in. I sighed. God, I was really indecisive today. “You know what, I’ll have a large black coffee, please.”

She winked. “Fox orders the same thing.”

My teeth clenched. “On second thought, I’ll take that first special coffee listed up there.”

She turned around to check the board. “The caramel macchiato?”

“Yes, please.” I didn’t have a clue what a macchiato was, but I didn’t care. “Plain coffee is too boring.”

Rita smiled. “Coming right up.”

After, I stopped at the grocery store. Today’s outing was bad enough. I didn’t want to have to do a second one later and talk to more people. While I was there, I picked up a pint of ice cream—I’d actually put two in my basket, but forced myself to put one back. Then I grabbed a bottle of wine and a box of frozen Bagel Bites—all the makings of a pity party in bed. I was going to allow myself one more day of it. Then I’d kick my own ass and finish the work left on the house. Whatever I decided, that needed to be done.

I’d been in the house for all of two minutes when the doorbell rang. I hated that my heart started to race, hoping it might be Fox. But when I opened the door, it was only the postman with an express envelope.


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