Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
River -- My life got derailed by a sneaky old woman in an assisted living home. The cloak-and-dagger story she frames is both unnerving and exciting. I thought Mrs. Walsh was living in her past, some heartbreaking episode of dementia… until I found the package she sent me looking for in a library in Vancouver. Next thing I know, I’m on a wild ride with two ridiculously handsome brothers -- Mrs. Walsh’s grandsons. I’ve spent my life feeling like the background character, but now I’m the star of the show. I’m a little scared, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.
Crush -- The moment I see River, I know my life is about to change. She’s got that “sweet and innocent” thing that makes me wonder how I’m going to resist her. Or if I even want to. I know I’m a pawn in one of my grandmother’s games, and I’m OK with playing along. But what am I supposed to do when I want a woman my brother also wants? Something about River makes the risk worth taking, even knowing this arrangement could blow up in my face.
Byte -- River’s beautiful, courageous, slightly crazy… and the woman I want for my own. However she’s got just as tight a hold on my brother Crush as she does on me, and no one comes between me and my brother. Our grandmother’s a master strategist, but I don’t think her plans include the three of us getting stuck in a tiny cabin on the side of a mountain… or does it?
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Chapter One
River
I breezed through the doors of Evergreen Assisted Living Home at precisely six twenty-six in the morning, greeted by the familiar buzz of fluorescent lights and an antiseptic smell that never quite masked the underlying scent of cooked cabbage from the cafeteria. Early, as always. Not to have a bid for employee of the month, but because the bus either got me here twenty-six minutes early or fifteen minutes late, and my supervisor had the memory of an elephant when it came to tardiness.
“Morning, River,” Melissa, one of the LPNs called out from behind the nurses’ station, her curly hair bouncing as she looked up from her computer. “Y’all got a madhouse today. The Wilsons’ son is visiting, so Mr. Wilson’s been up since five asking when he’ll arrive. He didn’t have his usual afternoon snack or a proper supper yesterday, and he’s a tad cranky.” She grinned up at me. Mr. Wilson had family in and out all the time, but his son lived in Southern California and his visits were only once every few months, and the older man always got excited to see his youngest child.
I hung my jacket on the rack and tied my hair back. “Thanks for the heads-up. Any other surprises waiting for me?”
“Mrs. Peterson had a rough night. Her service dog, Jody, had to go to the emergency animal hospital.”
“Oh, no! What happened to Jody?”
“Poor thing got startled when Jim started the vacuum and took off around the corner to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the door was shut and the little rascal knocked himself out. We all think he’s fine, but Mrs. Peterson wanted him to get checked over just to be safe. Can’t say I blame her. Poor Jody couldn’t walk straight for several seconds.” Melissa fought a grin but looked appropriately sympathetic. “I didn’t want to laugh. I really didn’t. And I loved on little Jody too, but it was still funny as shit.”
I winced, even as a smile tugged at my lips. I could practically see the little high-strung dog exactly as Melissa described. “When do we expect little Jody back with us?”
“If they’d gotten her to the vet before five yesterday afternoon, she’d likely have been back today. I thought I heard Mrs. Peterson tell someone they were keeping Jody overnight. Her son’s the vet, so he’ll take good care of her.”
“Oh, good. But I bet Mrs. Peterson’s had a rough night.”
“Probably. But she also knows her son will take care of precious Jody. Also” -- she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper --”The Collector was asking about you yesterday.”
The Collector. That’s what the staff called Margaret Walsh when she wasn’t within earshot because she was always picking up what she called “evidence”. That usually consisted of crumpled receipts with scribbles on them, books in the library with pages torn out, and other odds and ends, seemingly at random. I’d been at Evergreen for almost six months and Mrs. Walsh had been watching me from day one. She routinely sought me out and insisted I take her for a walk around the grounds… for which she didn’t really need my help. The woman set such a brisk pace that I struggled to keep up. How could a woman in her eighties be in better shape than me? Our conversations never made a whole lot of sense to me. She asked me personal questions at random. But she enjoyed herself, so I was happy to answer her questions.