Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Seamus and Stephen exchange a look.
“They did ask him,” Seamus confirms with a fond expression, “and we’re grateful, since Tasha was working on another project with the kids and didn’t have the time. Mom loves this dessert. She’ll love it even more knowing family made it for her.”
Michael clears his throat. “I’m glad I could help.”
He can speak! It’s a miracle.
“You’re Bex’s friend, Win,” Stephen says, holding out his hand and flashing his perfect politician smile. “We’re all feeling very lucky that Michael decided to stay at the cabin this weekend, otherwise we might not have found you. I’m glad to see you’re not too banged up after your ordeal.”
He eyes my crutches and the scrape on my cheek in concern.
“It wasn’t that much of a hardship,” I assure him. “I got to eat fancy cookies and recover on the couch while he cooked and kept the fire going. There was only one problem.” I pause for effect. “The man would not stop talking. Just a constant stream of chatter. And don’t get him started on Turkish soap operas or you’ll never shut him up.”
The twins have the exact same chuckle, which is both cool and creepy.
“He is a talker,” Seamus says dryly, following my lead. “Which is odd, because his brother is so introverted and quiet, I hardly ever notice he’s there.”
I glance over at him to make sure he isn’t embarrassed or insulted by the teasing. When I see him smiling ruefully, I inwardly sigh in relief. Thank goodness he didn’t leave his sense of humor back at home along with his voice.
Not home. A rental honeymoon cabin I’ll never see again. Same for those cute dogs, and probably Michael, once this party is over. My good mood deflates as swiftly as a popped balloon.
“We’ve got to get our baker to the kitchen, guys,” Veronica says into the lull. “Why don’t you two grab some brunch and enjoy the rest of the day with your family?”
Efficient. Good instincts. I definitely like her.
She and Connor walk beside us as if to protect us from any more interruptions, regaling me with their multiple mini-dates as I maneuver down the hall with the crutches, trying to pretend I actually need them and they aren’t cumbersome and uncomfortable.
A wingman’s work is never done.
She’s telling me about what they did yesterday as we walk through the double doors of the lodge’s kitchen. “Then for lunch, he asked me to give him a little ski instruction in the training room. One on one. I used to teach here during the busy season, so of course I said yes. He’s very athletic, isn’t he?”
Connor puffs out his chest and I try not to laugh. “That’s what I hear.”
“I suppose being a coach who loves sports as much as he does, it makes sense that he’d be so fit.” She points down a long row of stainless steel prep tables running parallel to a half dozen oven ranges. “I asked them to put the stool there for you to sit on, so you can stay off your feet while you help Mr. Demir.”
I give her my biggest smile. “You are so thoughtful, Veronica.”
“Why thank you, Win. I’m just so glad you’re okay and that I finally get to meet you. Connor talks about you all the time.”
“I was worried,” Connor mutters.
Aw. “He’s a good friend. Very loyal. A little bit of a clean freak,” I lie through my teeth. “But there’s nothing wrong with that, am I right, Veronica?”
The woman now has hearts in her eyes. “No, there isn’t. I think it’s wonderful.”
I get a look from Connor as he quickly steers his new ladylove out the door. “We’ll leave you to it. Text me when you’re done.”
When they’re gone, I find Michael staring at me with an enigmatic expression on his face. “The funniest part about that is that it sounded like innuendo, but I believe she actually spent her lunch break teaching him how to ski. And he is athletic. I also have a feeling he’ll start doing his own laundry soon.”
His huff of laughter loosens a few of the knots remaining in my stomach.
“So, you’re shy,” I tell him.
“I’m not.”
“You are. And not just a little bit, either. You really don’t like talking to people, do you?”
He shrugs. “I talk when I have something to say.”
“I’ll accept that for now. Especially since I know you don’t need an assistant. I was there when you made everything but the caramel in advance. So why did you ask me to help out?”
“I do need you.” He sets the containers down and plants his hands on the metal counter in front of him. “I know you’ve got things to do now that you’re back, but if you could just… Will you sit down on that stool and stay with me? Talk to me? Just for a little while?”