Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
So that was exactly what I did.
Chapter Fourteen
Holly
If the girls weren't so nice, I would have thought they were pulling some kind of prank on me as my car drove up the seemingly never-ending driveway that was almost entirely obscured by old, massive trees.
I mean, Hope had paid for the order. And it was no small order, either. She'd wanted oatmeal and sugar cookies, brownies, banana bread, and a cinnamon coffee cake. It came out to over sixty dollars. No way was she pulling my leg over that.
It didn't sound like much money, given the labor that went into making them. But with my newfound couponing skills, I managed to make it about eighty-percent profit. Which was a nice little chunk of money to me. Especially now that Shep's income was up in the air.
Anything would help.
And if I could get my name out there, I could maybe scale up, really start to make something on the side. I had to be up for most of the morning to help Shep, whether he liked it or not, so I might as well get some cookies in the oven between doing other tasks.
My GPS cut out after five minutes of driving up the dirt driveway, making my stomach clench a little even though there was no way of really getting lost since this was the only road.
I was debating turning back around before I finally caught the glimpse of something other than trees and underbrush and a driveway.
A house.
A cabin, really.
Like an actual log cabin except the logs had been squared instead of left round. Chunks of white mortar were between the logs that were stained a dark brown shade, giving the whole structure a lot of camouflage. If you didn't know you were looking for some sort of dwelling, you might have missed it.
There were no soft, feminine touches to the front porch with its slanted roof that would be perfect for watching a nice thunderstorm roll in while seated in the rocking chair. Preferably with a cup of good coffee and a nice, thick blanket.
There were no flowers, no hedges, no home touches, really, aside from an oversized mat by the door to help wipe off the mud that must have gotten on your shoes on the walk up the dirt path.
Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself there was nothing to be nervous about. I was just dropping off an order.
Really, I could have just put everything on the porch and headed out again if I wanted, but I was trying to get my name out there. And having good face-to-face interactions with people was a good way of accomplishing that.
There was nothing to be nervous about.
Even if I was out in the literal middle of nowhere. With shoddy phone service. And no one could hear my scream.
No.
Nope.
I wasn't going to let myself go there.
Besides, I had my newfangled self-defense skills I could use if I needed to. And the pepper spray and eye-gouger Malcolm had given me were never far either.
Hopping out, I grabbed the tins full of cookies, figuring I could go back for the rest once I was done introducing myself. I wanted a hand free to shake.
I made my way up onto the porch, listening for some signs of life.
Hearing nothing, I lifted my hand to knock.
And waited.
And waited.
I knocked again, hearing a grumble from inside.
"Ma, you have a ke—" the voice started then trailed off as the owner of it unlocked and pulled the door open.
I couldn't tell you which of us was more shocked to be facing the other.
"Malcolm?" I uttered at the same time, "Holly?" left his lips.
All other words that I might have said, though, stuttered and died on my tongue. Because not only was it somehow Malcolm I was facing, but it was a, ah, mostly naked Malcolm I was facing.
Meaning he was standing there in absolutely nothing but a towel that was slung almost obscenely low on his hips. And, well, Malcolm was practically a giant. Which meant even those fancy, oversized spa towels barely managed to fit him. So, yeah, there was a slit up his thigh as well.
It was all just... a lot.
It was a way lot.
My greedy, shameless eyes didn't know where to look first. But they drifted over his wide shoulders that would make a typical linebacker jealous. Then his strong chest, the familiar lines of them making the memory of being pressed against it to flood my mind.
But, gosh, what was below that chest? I might have ogled his abdominal area more than anywhere else, finding myself both surprised and pleased with the muscles underneath his skin, especially the ones that dipped in at his hips, that disappeared into the towel. Along with the thin trail of hair as well.
I even found myself more captivated by the sliver of rigid thigh muscle the slit in his towel showed me than I thought was normal.