Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
He probably wouldn’t show. He had just been looking for quick sex. Lucky for me, he’d actually managed to fix a few things yesterday.
I stared out the window. I had finally gotten a break from the noise at the housing development and was trying to concentrate.
Maybe I’ll get used to it, I thought without much hope. If it’s really going to last for five years…
The truth was, you could get used to anything. Being married. Being alone. Being widowed.
Being the world’s youngest reclusive cat lady.
My frown deepened at the sight of the fancy European car. It probably cost more than my house. I caught the hood ornament and whistled. It definitely cost more than my house.
The car came in fast and parked out front, sending gravel flying. Not cool, bro, I thought to myself. A young guy in a suit climbed out. A very fitted, very expensive-looking suit. He looked around, taking photos with his phone. I shot laser beams at him with my eyes as he walked the property, acting like he owned the place, which he most definitely did not.
My granny and gramps had owned it. And now I did. Not Douchey McDoucheCanoe out there. I looked at his shiny black leather shoes and then down at my beat-up green wellies. I had thought about sprucing myself up today, just because Mac didn’t need to see me looking fugly. But I’d decided against it on principal.
Do not sex yourself up for someone you do not plan to have sex with.
Even if you want to, Sussy.
Especially if you want to.
As a result of my foolish pride, I was wearing a pair of cut-off overalls over a camisole, with a soft ancient flannel thrown over the top. My hair was up in the usual messy bun. If I’d thrown on a tiny bit of lipgloss and mascara or used my ‘good’ shower gel and lotion this morning, who was to say?
Maybe there was a little dab of perfumed oil on my pulse points. And maybe I had shaved extra-carefully, not nicking myself even once, for a change. And no one needed to know I’d thrown on the least-dingy of my bra and panties.
No one would know, because no one would see it.
Still, I felt marginally put-together. Not enough armor to deal with Mr. Canoe outside. But I hadn’t been expecting him.
He was definitely not invited.
I grabbed a trowel and stomped outside, holding it in front of me like one of the gang kids from West Side Story.
“Can I help you?” I practically shouted in a tone that made it very clear I did not really want to help him. Unless I was using my trowel to help him get his ass back in his fancy car and leave.
He turned to look at me, his mouth already open. He was ready to start selling me a load of bull crap, no doubt. He shut it abruptly as he looked me over. His eyes lingered on my legs and chest as he gave me a thorough inspection. His smile returned, but it was different now. It was less used car salesman and more smug and slimy, as if he wanted me to know he liked what he saw.
He wasn’t even subtle about it!
Eww, creep factor five Captain!
“Hello, Mrs. Adams. I’m Theodore Von Clept. But you can call me Theo.”
He used my married name, but I didn’t bother to correct him. I knew what he wanted. Well, one of the things he wanted, at any rate.
My land and my booty.
I was getting hit on a lot in the past twenty-four hours, I realized. Thankfully, only one of the guys was totally gross about it.
I didn’t accept the hand he held out, or the card he offered either. He was a lawyer, judging from the looks of him. An expensive one.
“I represent a buyer who is very interested in this land.” He looked around. “If you knocked all these trees down, you would have a spectacular view in every direction.”
“Knock them down!” I sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence. “You!”
I realized I was clutching the spade in front of me like I was in a knife fight. I actually jabbed the air with it. He was lucky he wasn’t standing too close to me.
“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he said causally, as if I wasn’t obviously contemplating gutting him with a rusty garden spade. “We want to make you a really good offer. Now, it looks like from the surveys that you are sitting on a very large piece of land here. You’re barely using a tenth of it. The company I work for is willing to pay a hefty price for it. How do you feel about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
I opened my mouth and stared at him, too stupefied to even respond. First of all, the land alone was worth much more than that. I knew that, and I didn’t want to sell. This idiot was really pissing me off. And then he did something that sent me spiraling into a full-blown fit of rage.