Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“How does so much food come out of such a small kitchen?”
After they gorged, they took turns showering. Conrad went first, dressing in all things GBH. A shirt with GBH embossed over the chest. Shiny badge hanging from a chain around his neck. And, despite the heat, he wore a wind jacket with the GBH emblem on the back, concealing his gun.
He returned to the kitchen to eat more cobbler, this time with two scoops of ice cream, and wait for his friend. Yeah, the description fit.
Beau, the poor sap, stalked in half an hour later wearing cuffed ultrashort shorts from the 70s and a too-tight ribbed T-shirt. His glare deepened as Conrad looked him over, a spoon halfway to his mouth.
A laugh burst from him. “I like your new look.”
“Don’t say anything el—”
“Behold,” he announced, spreading his arms. “The gigolo groundskeeper.”
The vet rubbed his face and grumbled, “Why am I doing this? Why?”
“Because you’re a good friend.”
“So why aren’t you doing it?” the other man demanded.
“Because I’m a smarter boyfriend.” Not that he and Jane–never mind.
“At the moment, I can’t refute that.” Beau gave himself a once over. “Obviously.”
A stream of footsteps sounded. Fiona came flying down the stairs and into the room, calling, “Boys! Boys! Jane is ready for her grand entrance. Take your places.” She clapped her hands before shoving a small piece of paper in Conrad’s hand. “This is my number. Update me throughout the night, and I’ll make my famous blueberry pancakes for you. Trust me, you’ll never win my sweet Jay Bird without them. Now then.” She clapped again, then shooed them both toward the bottom of the steps. “All right. We’re ready for you, hon.”
Ah. Okay. The dramatic movie entrance. Was there anything more Jane?
He shoved Fiona’s number in his pocket, planning to contact her once an hour on the dot. Eager to see his gravekeeper in her chosen costume, he adapted the proper “besotted suitor” pose. Arms hanging low, fingers linked, and legs slightly spread. Perfect timing. The primary bedroom door opened, and Jane glided to the staircase, Rolex at her side.
Punch, punch, punch. Conrad took one internal blow after the other. She wore a black gown with puffed sleeves and a corset that cinched to her curves. A lacy, bustled skirt flared at her waist, the hem pooling on the floor. Pinned to the side of her head was a shiny top hat with a swath of netting that covered a portion of her face. Her bangs hung free, but she’d slicked back the rest, anchoring the dark locks in a tight bun.
A Victorian lady by day and an enchanting gravekeeper by night. Conrad could not look away.
She blushed as she met his gaze and descended the stairs. Rolex remained up top, clearly plotting Conrad’s demise.
Conrad winked at him before extending his arm to Jane. A smile bloomed as she accepted.
“There are no words good enough to describe you,” he told her.
“Trust me, your eyes are saying plenty.” Flirty and charming, she gave him a once-over. Did she realize she licked her lips before giving him a stern frown? “And you. Very agent-y.”
“I hate this, by the way,” Beau interjected, swiping up a lantern he’d set aside earlier. All kinds of grumpiness layered his tone. “In case anyone was wondering.”
Jane patted the vet’s cheek as Conrad led her past him. “You're welcome. You look fantastic.”
They made their way outside and navigated a lantern-lit cobblestone path to the newly erected dais. Beau took a place at Jane’s left while Conrad flanked her right. Wasn’t long before the first guests arrived.
He texted Fiona: Event about to start.
“Hello and welcome to a night sure to haunt your memories for eternity,” Jane called, smiling and waving.
“Before I forget,” Beau said, wrestling a small keypad from his tiny pocket. He handed it to Jane, who stuffed it in a pocket of her own. “Press the button when you want more light.”
As other guests poured in from the parking lot, Conrad examined the growing sea of faces. The clerk from the hardware store. The barista from the coffee shop. He spotted Abigail Waynes-Kirkland with two men he hadn’t met. Yet. More people attended than he’d predicted, some even spilling into the Reflection Center to mill about the stone benches. Still, he’d prepared for this too.
A message came in.
Barrow: The widow is here.
The other agent had arrived an hour ago, and now monitored the camera feed along with the sheriff and a few of his deputies.
Beau set the lantern near Jane’s feet with an irritated huff. “People are staring at me.”
“Not you,” Jane muttered. Without looking at Conrad, she managed to focus on him. “Did you have to bring the badge?” she whispered. “And the gun on your hip? Seriously Conrad.”
Yes. Seriously. “All the better to protect you with.”