Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Tell me it was you,” his father demands, smacking his stick on the floor as Dec goes to the coffee machine and pulls a cup of coffee off the stand.
“It was me. Happy?” Then he sips, oh so casual, as his father starts to visibly shake, his face going an alarming shade of red.
“What the hell are you going to do with a failing whiskey empire?” he yells. “You hate whiskey.”
“What am I going to do with it?” Dec asks. “Oh, Dick. From a man of your stature, that’s a really dumb fucking question.” Dec sets his coffee down. “I’m going to break down the company and sell off the distilleries, factories, land, and stores, bit by bit.”
“You vengeful bastard.”
“Now are we done?” Dec asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
Dick looks like steam could start gushing out of his ears. “Your mother would turn in her grave.”
I jump out of my skin when Dec’s cup hits the stone counter with a thwack hard enough to shatter it. It’s a miracle it’s still intact. “Never talk about my mother,” he warns with a lethal edge. “Do you understand me? Now get out of my house.”
“I assume this means you won’t be at Paisley’s engagement party.”
“You mean to fly the flag for the Ellises? Show a united front in the face of adversary? No, Dick. You don’t get my compliance so your new wife and your brats get to keep up appearances.” He points past him. “The door’s that way.”
Dick huffs, but I see surrender. He walks to the door and looks back at me. “Don’t get too cosy. Dec Ellis gets very bored very quickly.”
I laugh, insulted, and give my attention to Dec, waiting and expecting an explanation.
“He’s being spiteful. I was very active many years ago.” He slides a pastry across the island to me. “And when he says bored, he means in business. Coffee?”
“Please.” And that’s that? My lips twist, uncertainty kicking me in the gut as Dec, moody, makes more coffee. He was very active many years ago. Before his wife? Is she why he’s been celibate for nearly five years? Did she burn him that badly?
I groan to myself, suddenly more curious about her than I want to be. “How many women have you dated?” I try to sound casual. Fail.
Dec looks over his shoulder. “You want to have the conversation where you ask me how many women I’ve slept with, and I tell you it’s much lower than it actually is?”
“How many?”
“Fifteen. And that’s the truth. What about you?”
Oh God, I didn’t think this through. My gaze drops to the stone counter. “A few,” I murmur pathetically. A coffee appears in my downcast vision, and I peek up at Dec. “So what was that all about?”
“Oh, no.” He laughs. “You started this. You can finish it. How many?”
“Truth?”
“Yes, the truth.”
“I’ve lost count.”
He dunks his finger in the cream on my plate and wipes it on the end of my nose. “I still love you.”
And that’s the end of that? I know I can’t hide my surprise.
“I’m not interested in how many men you’ve slept with, Camryn. All I’m interested in is that you will only sleep with one man from this moment forward.”
Fuck. Could I love you more? “You bought a whiskey brand your father wanted, then?” I ask, taking Dec’s lead and moving forward rather than back. Although I’m still super curious about his father, which I appreciate is moving back a little, but still. I’ve gone back in time too. For the benefit of my future.
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“Because it was a good deal.”
I raise my brows and take a bite of my pastry.
“Don’t raise your brows at me.” He leans across, wiping my face with a towel.
“No daddy issues, though?” I mumble around my mouthful, restraining my smile.
“None at all.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he parrots.
I shrug. “Okay.”
He narrows one eye, dumping the towel and collecting his coffee, drumming his fingers on the counter. My lips purse, watching him trying to figure out what he can say that might convince me he doesn’t give two shits about his father. “Okay,” he murmurs, tipping his cup to his lips, circling around the island to my side, taking slow, casual paces.
I keep my body forward, my eyes following him until they can follow him no more. He’s behind me. Flakes of pastry dust my fingers, floating down to the plate as Dec pushes his back up against me, leaning past me to place his coffee down. Hot breath hits my ear, and my spine rolls one vertebra at a time until it’s ramrod straight. “I think it’s too early to be up on a Saturday.” He turns me on the stool to face him, my pastry hanging in my limp hand.
“Me too.” Taking a bite out of my pastry, I chew, anticipation back with a vengeance, while Dec studies me thoughtfully. “What?” I ask, mumbling around my mouthful.