Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
It’s summer, so I decide to go with a pretty sage-green flowy dress that accentuates my curves, hides the hips and belly that make me self-conscious, and is so comfy. Beige sandals go well and will be perfect if we walk at all. I complete the look with a Gucci crossbody handbag and simple gold earrings.
Casually stylish.
I push my red hair over my shoulder and take in the view in the mirror, turning side to side to see myself from all angles, and decide that this will do just fine.
With a decisive nod, I hang the few dresses and tops that I pulled out to try on back on their hangers and put them away and then hear the doorbell ring as I walk toward the living room.
When I open the door, I can’t help but grin at the handsome man standing before me. He’s so freaking tall. Of course, I’m short, so everyone is tall to me. His dark hair is styled in a short cut, and he’s in nice jeans and a blue, short-sleeved button-down, not tucked in, and frankly, he makes me salivate.
“Wow, you look beautiful,” he says and slips a bouquet of pink roses out from behind his back. “These are for you.”
“Thank you.” I bury my nose in the blooms, breathing in deeply, and turn for the kitchen. “Come on back and keep me company while I put these in water. Summer must have told you that these are my favorite.”
“No,” he replies, and I turn to him in surprise. “I remember that you mentioned at the wedding that you loved these particular flowers in the centerpiece arrangements.”
The man pays attention, I’ll give him that.
A slow smile spreads over my lips as I turn on the tap and fill a vase with water, then arrange the roses inside of it.
“They’re beautiful,” I reply, sniffing them once again before I set the vase on my table and turn to him. “I’m ready if you are.”
“Let’s do this.” He reaches out for my hand and then lifts it to his lips, kissing my knuckles and smiling at me over them. Those hazel eyes are full of happiness and promise as he leads me through the house to the front door.
He waits while I lock the door behind me, and when I turn to follow him to his truck, he’s frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is that the only security you have on the house? Just the deadbolt?”
I look back at the door, up and down the street, and then back to him. “We’re in Bitterroot Valley, not New York or LA, Ryan. This is a safe neighborhood.”
He nods, but I can tell that he’s not particularly satisfied with that answer.
“I leave snacks out for the delivery people during the holidays, and I’ve never had anyone steal them, not even the neighbor kids. I’m fine, Ryan.”
“Okay,” he says with a nod and holds the door of the truck open for me. “I believe you.”
He winks, and I slip inside, then he rounds the hood and gets in next to me.
“Do you have a lot of security issues at your ranch?” I ask, half joking, but he doesn’t smile. He also doesn’t start the truck to leave.
Ryan sighs.
“Sometimes,” he admits and turns to face me. “I have a gate, cameras, and I have security on staff. Two at a time.”
“As in, security guards?” I ask him.
“Yes. They don’t go out with me or anything, especially when I’m home, but they’re on duty at the ranch.” He rubs his fingers over his forehead, and I instinctively reach out for his hand. He laces our fingers together. “Sometimes, people suck. Either I make them mad, or they’re jealous or just assholes, and they like to make threats. So, I keep the guys on hand, just in case. We’ve had a couple of false alarms, nothing crazy here.”
“Nothing crazy here,” I repeat, watching him closely. “Where has it been crazy, Ryan?”
“I don’t want to scare you off on the first date.”
I grin at him and lift his hand so I can press it to my cheek. “I’m not scared.”
“Yet,” he mutters. “Well, there was one attempt to get into my place in Manhattan. They would have succeeded if not for excellent security in the building, and since he was carrying zip ties, duct tape, chloroform, and a gun in his backpack, we’re pretty sure the intent was to kidnap me and demand a payout.”
“Jesus.” Just the thought of it has my stomach turning. “That’s horrible.”
“It’s rare. I’m not as high profile as Musk, Zuckerberg, Bezos, and the like. I’m not as wealthy as them, either. Yet.”
His grin is cocky and sure of himself, and it makes me smile.
“But you will be,” I guess.
“I don’t need that much wealth,” he concedes, “but that’s not what it’s about for me. Anyway, back to the security thing… I’m careful because although I’m not as high profile as those guys, there is a level of celebrity status that comes with what I do. People want a piece of it, and they’re willing to go to extremes to take it. And some people just hate me for the sake of hating me. I don’t really care about that.”