Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Hudson’s nostrils flare. “Mags,” he says, like she’s sucker-punched him. “That’s a low blow. I’m counting the days until I can rub it in his face.” He suddenly looks like a toddler who doesn’t want to share his toy.
She shrugs, cool and confident. “I know.”
He glares at me, then at her, then at me again, as if it’s my fault she’s tearing him a new asshole.
Maggie doesn’t give him time to respond. She leads us back to the dining room.
“I’m going to say this in front of all of you so there are no misunderstandings.” My girl gives each of her brothers a pointed stare.
"We're in love," she says, gently encircling my waist with her arm. "We're figuring out where this relationship is heading, and until we do, you guys are on a need-to-know basis."
"If he hurts you again," Silas tells Maggie, but his words are really a warning for me. His voice is low and dangerous. "We'll make him disappear." He jabs a finger in my direction, his eyes steely and unwavering. "Mr. Sanford's pigs always need a little extra food. And pigs will eat anything."
The implication is clear and chilling. Ouch. I square my shoulders, meeting their gaze with unwavering determination. "She's the love of my life," I declare, my voice steady and resolute, leaving no room for doubt. "And I plan on spending the rest of my life making her happy."
"Damn," Tanner interjects, rolling his eyes dramatically. A huge smirk breaks out across his face. "He's got it bad."
"Pussy-whipped fucker," Cole chimes in with a chuckle, his laughter echoing around the large dining room.
"It's embarrassing to watch," Hudson adds, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he delivers his teasing jab.
And just like that, I’m one of them.
I drag myself into my office, ready to drop dead from exhaustion. I’m so tired I could curl up on my very uncomfortable sofa and take a nap. Being a nonprofit director sucks sometimes. I drop into my desk chair, propping my head up with one hand as my eyes drift shut.
Five seconds of rest later, I snap awake, nearly tipping backward in my seat. I don't have time for this; I've got to sort through the piles of paperwork piling up on my desk. I shove one pile aside to make room for a bigger one. Before I know it, the desk is even more of a disaster zone than when I started.
After a solid hour, I've barely made a dent, but I have come across a few small gems. Looks like my family’s come through for me again. No surprise there. My five brothers all sent in extra donations for the month. I guess the big jerks are trying to make up for pissing me off at our family dinner.
I pick up an envelope from the bank. Inside, I find notice of an anonymous donation that has way more zeroes than I’m used to seeing. I pick up the paper to make sure my sleep-deprived brain isn’t seeing things. It’s a small miracle wrapped in dollar signs. Way over the amount I need to launch the summer reading initiative without cheating other programs.
My jaw hits the floor, the desk, and then the floor again. Who would drop that much cash without taking credit?
It's got to be someone who knows me well and knows what’s going on with the program.
I pick up the phone and jab in the number for the bank. A woman's businesslike voice answers. “Silver Spoon Falls Bank, this is Sally. How may I help you?”
"Hi there, I'm calling about a recent deposit made to my nonprofit's account. I'm trying to identify the donor," I tell her.
She asks for my account information and asks me to hold on. When she comes back on the line, she informs me, "I’m sorry, Ms. Carrington, but I can't release any information about the other customer."
"It's a sizable amount," I argue, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I shuffle through more papers. "I’d like to send a thank you. Is there any way for me to find out?" Darn. Since I’ve been director, I haven’t dealt with anonymous donations. It’s actually the opposite. Most people want to claim more than they donated.
"I can’t help you." She sighs. "But your accountant might have the name for tax purposes."
Well, hot damn. I should’ve thought of that myself. This exhaustion is really kicking my butt. "Thank you," I tell her before hanging up.
I pick up the phone and punch in the number for our accountant, Penny.
"Hey," I say. "I found a large donation from an anonymous donor. Do you have any idea who it is?"
“I might,” she mumbles and I can hear her shuffling paperwork. “Give me one second.”
"Thanks, Penny." I listen to the elevator music while she checks.