Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“That’s cool. Where is Maverick from?”
“New Mexico.”
“You and he are a long way from home. That must be hard for the two of you.”
“Not as hard as you think,” I say, and she looks up at me again, and I know she sees more than she should when her expression softens, making her even more beautiful. “What about you? Have you always lived in Oregon?”
“My whole life.” She stumbles, but I catch her around her upper arm before she can fall. “Thanks,” she breathes.
“Anytime.” I let her go as we continue uphill, then realize where we are. “Jacob,” I call out, and he stops to look at me as everyone else does the same. “We’ll stop at the clearing about twenty minutes ahead and have lunch.”
“Got it.” He continues walking, and everyone follows suit.
When we reach the clearing, I use the sat phone to check in with Maverick, then go in search of Cybil when I don’t see her with everyone else. Spotting her sitting on a log with a book in one hand and her sandwich in the other, I drop my pack and take my lunch with me to join her.
“What are you reading, sunshine?” I ask as I straddle the log, and she looks up at me midchew, then flips the cover closed so I can see for myself. I raise a brow when I see a medieval-looking couple kissing and the title The King’s Prize. “Is it any good?”
Setting the book down, she picks up her water and takes a sip before answering. “I just started, but the author is one of my favorites, so I hope so.”
“Hm.” I pull out my sandwich and take a bite while she opens her book back up.
“You’re staring at me,” she says after a few minutes, and I chuckle, because there are not many women who say whatever it is they are thinking—at least not many that I’ve met.
“I like looking at you,” I tell her honestly, watching her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink.
“Well, stop,” she mumbles without taking her eyes off her book. “It’s making me feel weird.”
“Weird,” I repeat, and she turns toward me.
“Yes, weird, and shouldn’t you be eating with everyone else?”
“Nope, mealtime is my time.” I finish off the rest of my sandwich in one bite, and she sighs as she goes back to her book. “Why aren’t you eating with everyone?”
“I’m used to being alone, so being around people for long periods of time drains my energy.” Her eyes meet mine, and her nose scrunches. “Don’t get me wrong—I like people; I just need quiet, if that makes sense.”
“I’m the same way.”
“Really?” She lifts a brow, and I smile.
“After a week out here with guests, I have to spend a couple of days alone. It drives Mav and Blake nuts when I go off the grid and they can’t get ahold of me,” I admit, wondering what else we might have in common because I haven’t met many people who like to be alone.
“It makes my best friend, Jade, nuts too.” She laughs, and fuck if the sound doesn’t make my stomach muscles bunch. “Then again, she thinks I spend enough time alone, since I’m in my shop working on my own every day unless it’s time to ship stuff out. Then I have my neighbor Earl there with me, helping box stuff up to be mailed out.”
“What kind of shop do you have?”
“It’s not a real shop. It’s more like where I keep my materials and sewing machine. I design and sell vegan leather handbags at a few local stores and online through my website and social media.”
“Really? How did you get into that?”
“My mom was a seamstress. She taught me how to sew, and when I became a vegetarian, I didn’t feel good carrying a real leather bag. So I decided to make my own out of natural materials. The first time I wore one of my designs in town, a friend of mine saw it and wanted one, so I made her one. Then I started getting calls, and the next thing I knew, my business was born.” She shrugs.
“That’s impressive—not many people have it in them to go after what they want or to build a business from the ground up.”
“You did it,” she says easily, and my chest feels funny. “It also doesn’t hurt that it makes me happy and keeps a roof over my head.” She stiffens ever so slightly when Lauren breaks away from everyone else and starts toward us.
“You okay?” I ask when she gets up and shoves her garbage into the reusable sack her lunch came in before tucking it and her book back into her pack.
“Yep, just gonna go take a few pictures.” She pulls out her camera that is a lot more fancy than the ones people normally bring along on one of these trips and lifts the thick strap over her head so that it’s hanging on her chest.