Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
He holds a hand on the lid, ready to open it, when he adds. “Mathias, I knew your parents. I’m not trying to be rude, but I don’t want you to get your heart set on something you can’t afford...”
“Open. The. Box.”
One thing I’m good at, is keeping my business my business. My parents did as well. People around here know I have leased parts of my land to an oil company, but they have no idea how many wells or what their production has been. Most around town think I’m some crazy burl wood hunter with a creative flair and my parents’ money must have built my house for me.
He pops the top open and inside are six rings, but I only see one.
“That one.” I jab my finger at the center ring. It only takes me a second to decide, but I hear James sigh.
Before he can give me some bullshit protest again, I move things along.
“Just give me the fucking price and stop sighing like that.”
He picks the ring up, placing it in my open palm, and meets my eyes. “It’s in the low six figures.”
“That’s not a price.” I’m getting fucking annoyed. “How much?”
“Two hundred twenty thousand. I’m rounding down for you, since I know your parents. You know I’d give you a line of credit if I could, but I don’t extend credit lines in that amount... I realize it’s probably not anything you are able to—”
“I’ll take it.” I interrupt, before he can fucking sigh again. “I want the nicest box you have. Polish it up. I’m going to the bank, I’ll have them wire you the money. Write down your account information.” I grab a business card from the holder on the counter and flip it over, shoving it across the glass.
James hesitates, then takes a pen from his suit jacket pocket and does what I ask. With a grunt, I’m out the door with the business card, on my way across the street to the bank.
That’s another pain in my ass with the teller, Angie and the bank manager asking me eighteen thousand questions, but in fifteen minutes, I’ve got that task completed and I’m on to the last. The one that’s been gnawing at my gut since the day I met Astrid.
More accurately, her step-fucker.
The cool of the morning has burned off as the sun comes out from behind the clouds, and I make my way around the corner in the middle of town toward the police station. By the time I get there, an irrational anger bubbles inside of me
How long have I been away from her? Half hour? Forty minutes?
Tension grows inside of me with every additional minute. I don’t want her out of my sight another second, so I need to speed this up.
“Hi there.” Martha blows me a kiss from behind the glass at the front desk as I come through the door. “I just talked to your mom...”
I try to hide the roll of my eyes, but she catches it. I had two missed calls from mom this morning after our shower and fuck session and a text message with her usual, checking on my little boy. Call your mother.
I intended to, but my head, well both of them, are so obsessed with Astrid it slipped my mind. I make a note to be sure to call her later from the cabin, with Astrid there. I might even use the fucking Facetime deal my mother loves, so I can introduce my parents to their future daughter-in-law and mother of the brood of grandbabies that will start arriving soon. Beginning hopefully in about nine months.
Thankfully the dispatch phone rings and Martha has to answer, but she buzzes me through the door and I make my way through the station. Marshall is at his desk and turns my way.
“Well, hello. Two times to town in one week? Are you dying? Is it the apocalypse?”
“Shut up.” I bark, looking through Booker’s open office door to see him on the phone, but he looks up and waves me in.
“Hey, rumor has it you didn’t come to town alone...” Marshall gives me a smirk.
I shake my head. “How the fuck do you know that?”
He shrugs and nods toward Booker. “Beverly called.”
“Jesus, this town...” I close my eyes and bite down, listening to my teeth crack from the pressure. “Nobody has anything better to do?”
“Apparently not.” He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “So, who is she?”
Before I can snap back at him, the Sheriff comes out of his office with a stupid smile.
“Don’t.” I shake my head at him, and he raises his hands in surrender.
“Hey, I can’t help it if you coming to town with some mystery girl is the news of the decade around here.”