Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
****
The regional airport in her hometown was little more than a glorified airstrip with a handful of private hangars. Hope waited on the single bench outside the small terminal, nervously smoothing her simple blue dress—the nicest one she owned.
A sleek private jet taxied to a stop on the tarmac, its gleaming exterior almost blinding in the Wyoming sun. Hope's stomach tightened. Of course Colin Soukoulis had his own plane. What else had she expected?
The jet's door opened, and a man emerged at the top of the stairs. Even from a distance, he took her breath away.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair touched with premature silver at the temples. His face could have been carved from granite—all sharp angles and brooding intensity. He wore no tie with his tailored suit, the top buttons of his shirt casually undone, but the effect was no less intimidating.
This was a man who commanded rooms simply by entering them.
Hope stood, smoothing her dress one last time as Colin Soukoulis crossed the tarmac toward her. His gaze swept over her, dark and assessing.
"Ms. Tiangco," he said, his voice deeper than she'd imagined from their brief phone conversation.
She cleared her throat. "It's actually Mrs. Soukoulis now?"
The reminder visibly disconcerted him, and Hope struggled not to let this affect her. "Just call me Hope, please."
It was a struggle to keep her face expressionless as he tok her hand. His palm was warm against hers, his grip firm but not overpowering.
"Hope," he repeated, and the sound of her name in his voice made her cheeks warm.
Up close, he was even more devastating than she remembered. A strong jaw with just the right amount of stubble. Eyes like molten chocolate, intense and penetrating. They were nearly the same height, she realized—her five-nine to his six-four—their eyes almost level when she wore heels.
"You're taller than your photos suggested," he remarked, still studying her.
She had always been this tall. But she supposed he had never noticed since she had never been the type to stand out in their old high school, even with her height.
The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, and Hope shifted on her feet. "Um..." Think, Hope! What else was there to say? She cleared her throat again. "Your, um, plane is impressive."
"It serves its purpose."
Spoken like a true billionaire, Hope thought, but not unkindly. It was simply what it was.
Colin glanced past her to the parking lot. "Your car?"
Hope nodded toward her faded blue Subaru, suddenly conscious of its dents and peeling paint. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't look much, but it's reliable."
"I'm sure it is."
"I know you told me that I didn't need to pick you up, but I thought having more time together before meeting my parents would be ideal."
Colin only nodded, and she wondered if he was always this silent. Or maybe he already found her boring?
Hope unlocked the passenger door for him, hurriedly clearing away a granola bar wrapper and an empty coffee cup.
Colin folded his tall frame into the passenger seat, his knees nearly touching the dashboard. In the confined space, his presence overwhelmed her senses—the subtle cedar notes of his cologne, the quiet power radiating from him with each shift of his shoulders.
Hope slid behind the wheel, shrinking beneath the weight of his silent assessment.
"My parents live about twenty minutes from here," she said, starting the engine. "They're... they're good people, but they're not—"
"I understand."
The quiet assurance in his voice startled her into looking at him.
"I know what's at stake. I'll do my part. I promise."
"Thank you," she said simply.
"Tell me more about them."
"The Bartons aren't my biological parents," Hope explained, keeping her eyes on the road as she started the drive back. "They fostered me starting when I was fifteen, after I'd been in several bad placements."
She felt his gaze on her profile but couldn't bring herself to meet it. Her history wasn't something she shared easily.
"They took in a traumatized teenager?" Colin asked quietly.
Hope nodded. "They saved my life. Edith and Frank... they gave me stability. A home."
The countryside blurred past her window—rolling hills dotted with cattle, mountains in the distance, a sky so blue it hurt to look at it. Wyoming's beauty had always been a comfort to Hope. Today, it felt like a reminder of everything wild and unpredictable in her carefully planned life.
"We're here," she said as they turned onto a dirt road lined with aspen trees.
The Barton farmhouse came into view: white with blue shutters, flower beds lining the front porch, and a hand-painted mailbox reading "Barton Family Farm." It was modest but meticulously maintained.
Edith came out to welcome them. "So you're the gentleman who's stolen our girl's heart."
Hope's pulse quickened as Colin stepped forward, taking Edith's weathered hand in both of his.
"Mrs. Barton." His voice transformed, warming in a way Hope hadn't heard before. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Colin Soukoulis."