She tosses me the set of keys to get inside and smiles before turning around to walk away.
“Do you want me to take you anywhere?” I ask before she can get too far.
“No, dear. One of my boys is probably up at the house.” She points to the house I just had my sight on. “They can drive me back after they give me an ice-cold beer.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
It’s not even eleven in the morning.
“Thank you again,” I shout as she walks away in the direction of the main house.
“Anytime. Welcome to Bluestone Lakes, Blair. I think you’re gonna like it here.” She winks and continues her walk.
I look down at Reginald, and he barks at the house.
“Oh, and Blair?” Nan shouts halfway to the road. I turn my head back to her. “Don’t call me ma’am again. Makes me feel old. I still got a lot of life left in these bones. You call me Nan, just like everyone else.”
I chuckle. “You got it, Nan.”
I turn back to face my new home, letting the quiet embrace me as I smile to myself.
Bluestone Lakes is nothing like San Francisco, but maybe that’s exactly what I need.
The fresh start I’ve been waiting for.
A place where no one knows who I am.
A place where I’m not associated with my piece of shit ex-husband.
A place where no one has sad, sympathetic eyes for the woman who was cheated on.
“I think we’re going to like it here too,” I tell Reginald.
CHAPTER 3
I’M NOT CUTTING HER GRASS.
Griffin
“Helloooo? Is anyone home?” Nan bellows from the front door.
I round the hallway from the kitchen and find her standing in the foyer. “Sure, just let yourself in.”
“I practically own this town, boy,” she states with her hands on her hips and a scowl etched in her features.
I move to stand directly in front of her. She’s a tiny thing, but she’s got a lot of fire in her. Doesn’t matter though, because I tower over her. “But I ownthisproperty.”
“Oh, Mr. Grumpy Griffin,” she says in a mocking tone, with my chin between her fingers. “Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”
Releasing an audible groan, I brush off Nan’s stupid nickname—which she’s been calling me for years—and walk back into my kitchen to pour myself a glass of ice-cold water.
Not that anyone in particular has pissed me off today. The bar I own here in town is just pure madness this week. We’re short on supplies, and our trucks have been so late with the last couple of deliveries to this town in the middle of nowhere.
Well, that’s a stretch.
It might feel like we’re in the middle of nowhere, but we sure as hell get plenty of people passing through on a detour the moment they take one look at the crystal blue waters of the lake. Most see it while they’re in the middle of a long road trip and decide this is where they want to stop for the night. I’m pretty sure the white Mercedes Benz I saw returning from the ranch earlier was someone passing through.
At least, I hope it was.
