Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Deal.” She beamed. “I think you should wear your hair down tonight, don’t you?”
On the fifteen-minute walk from my grandmother’s house back to my condo, both of which were on the grounds of Snowberry Lodge, I got a text from my friend Winnie.
Well?? How did it go?
My life is in the toilet. And I think my grandmother just flushed.
Did she sell before you could talk to her???
No, but she refuses to consider giving it to me. She thinks I need a husband to run this place. In fact, it’s in her will. Her WILL!!! And she went behind my back and set me up on a date with her widowed dentist. TONIGHT.
What??? Hang on, I’m going to call you.
My phone vibrated in my hand a moment later. “Hello?”
“What on earth?” Winnie shrieked. “You need a husband to inherit the family manor? What is this, Bridgerton?”
“Apparently. And she’s arranged a match for me with her widowed dentist.”
“She could have at least tried for a duke. I’m insulted for you.”
“Thank you,” I huffed.
“Have you ever met the dentist?”
“Once, when I took Gran to an appointment.” I kicked a rock as I walked along the shoulder of the service road that circled the resort.
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-five, with two kids.”
“Is he cute?”
“He’s not bad-looking, but he’s no duke of Hastings.”
“Well, maybe it won’t be terrible,” Winnie said, always an optimist. “I fell for a single dad with two kids. And look at us now.” Winnie and her husband Dex, a firefighter, shared two daughters from his first marriage with their mom and had their own two-year-old son, Michael.
I’d met her three years ago at a hospitality expo in Chicago, and we’d hit it off immediately. We were the same age, and we both worked for family-run resort properties in northern Michigan. Winnie was the wedding planner at Cloverleigh Farms, which was about two hours away from Snowberry. She also introduced me to her bestie, Ellie Lupo, who ran the tasting room at her family’s winery. They were both busy with jobs, husbands, and kids, but we tried to get together for girls’ nights when we could.
“Trust me,” I told Winnie, “the situation is different. Dr. Smalley is a nice guy, but he’s not the one.”
“You don’t know that for sure! He could be a good time.” She giggled. “I bet he’s really good at drilling.”
“Stop it, I’m not going to drill him.”
“Why not? That’s exactly what you need to bring down your stress level. Good sex is very beneficial for mental and emotional health. Orgasms release all kinds of feel-good chemicals in your body.”
“I vaguely recall them.” I turned up the driveway leading to a cluster of condominiums. Mine was the first one on the right, a one-story, one-bedroom unit.
“Why only vaguely?”
“Because I haven’t had sex in over a year, Winnie. Not since Andrew left last summer. And it wasn’t that good at the end anyway.”
“You don’t need a man to reap the benefits, Lexi. I was just reading about the orgasm as an act of self-care. Not only does it improve pelvic muscle tone, but all the hormones released do wonders for our sleep quality, moods, cognition, and overall stress levels.”
I sighed, climbing the wooden steps to my tiny deck overlooking the woods. “You want the sad truth? I can’t even get there on my own anymore.”
“You can’t?” Winnie whispered, like it was too terrible to say out loud.
“Nope. I can get close—like I can hear the party going on in the next room, but the door is locked. I can’t get in. And then I’m all up in my head about it.” I dropped into the Adirondack chair next to the front door.
“Since when?”
“It’s been months,” I admitted. “Six, maybe seven. I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken, Lexi. It’s stress. This year has been really tough for you.”
“And it’s only going to get worse. If stress stole my O, it’s definitely gone for good.” I closed my eyes, remembering that delicious tension, the euphoric release, the wilted afterglow. Would I ever feel those things again?
“Listen, don’t worry about it right now—just put on something cute and go drink some tequila,” advised Winnie. “Even if the dentist isn’t the one to solve the case of the missing O, you might have a good time tonight.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up in a white dress, with my hair down, sitting next to Dr. Smalley at the bar at The Broken Spoke, sipping a margarita and listening to him rhapsodize about his late wife with tears in his eyes.
“She was just so wonderful, you know?” His eyes took on a faraway look.
“I know.”
“So unselfish and sweet. A perfect mother to our children. I loved her so much.”
I licked some salt off the rim of my glass. “I can tell.”
“She didn’t care that I wasn’t the best-looking guy in the room or didn’t make the most money or drive the coolest car. She just loved me for me.”