Read Online No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) by Amanda McIntyre - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda McIntyre
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born—Europe, New York, New Orleans. As it turned out, she returned instead to End of the Line to take care of her dad. The suitcases hadn’t been anywhere since.
She prayed that her fingers wouldn’t come into contact with any cobwebs. The saving grace was that most eight-legged critters were either dead or snuggled in for the winter.
She groped for the handle, draping her body over the massive containers. After her father died, she’d taken down the majority of his possessions and nearly all the decorative items he’d kept around the house, even after her mother left and stuffed them into all these storage tubs. Closing each one and hauling them to the far end of the closet, she told herself she’d need to go through it and keep the things she really wanted and send the rest to the Goodwill bin that Nan over at the sporting goods store had set up recently in the corner of her parking lot. She growled as she searched for the handle, stretching her reach as far as she could.
“Got it!” she called out with glee, unsure if Rein was still around or not. It didn’t matter. Tiny victories. Now if it still held together, life would be good. She yanked the massive suitcase from its spot wedged between tubs and the wall. Stumbling backwards over more storage boxes, she lay for a moment, suitcase atop her, staring at the ceiling, seeing the shadowy beginnings of cracks from the house settling. Was she smart to be investing so much into renovating the old house?
“I heard a thud, Sally. You okay back there?” Rein’s voice came from the door, the view impeded by the racks of clothing hung on both sides of the narrow closet.
She struggled with the suitcase and, after hauling it over a few more obstacles, smiled as she found her way back to the door.
Rein backed away and let her through. “You know they’re still looking for Jimmy Hoffa.” He eyed her suitcase, as large as an old steamer trunk.
“What? It’s still in good shape…I think.” She grabbed the handle and it fell off in her hand. “I probably yanked on it too hard.”
He studied the luggage, not bothering to mask his skepticism.
“There’s another handle on the side.” Sally said. “It’ll be fine.”
“You’re not crossing the Atlantic, Sal. It’s a week, maybe a week and a half, tops, and it’s not as though you can’t stop by and pick up whatever you need every day.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at her.
“Ok, I realize it appears that I may be going away for longer, but this is all I’ve got other than garbage bags.”
Rein shrugged.
“Which I refuse to pack my clothes in, thank you.” Sally swiped off a thin layer of dust over the top of the case. “Besides, with the weird weather we’ve been having, I don’t know what kind of clothing I’ll need—or what kind of shoes, for that matter.
He let out a sigh, the kind that meant surrender. “Fine by me. Get her loaded and for God’s sake, don’t try to lift that thing. Call down and one of us will get it to the truck for you. Is it me, or is it listing?” He tipped his head and nudged it. “Looks like you’re missing one of the wheels.”
“Thanks.” She eyed him as he left, then hauled the monstrosity to the bed. Careful of what might leap out, she opened it, scanned the inside, and decided to lay out a clean sheet as a barrier between it and her clothing. She made a mental note to purchase a new set of luggage—if there was any money left after the renovations. Her stash that she’d held onto for years—the small inheritance her dad had left her—had been slowly dwindling with the hidden costs of renovations.
Aimee appeared at the bedroom door. “Hey, I had an appointment in town today with Doc Johnson. Thought I’d stop by and see if you needed any help packing.” Aimee walked in and sat down beside the suitcase. “I won’t lie, I’m kind of excited to have you visiting for a few days.” She looked at the case, then at Sally. “It is
She prayed that her fingers wouldn’t come into contact with any cobwebs. The saving grace was that most eight-legged critters were either dead or snuggled in for the winter.
She groped for the handle, draping her body over the massive containers. After her father died, she’d taken down the majority of his possessions and nearly all the decorative items he’d kept around the house, even after her mother left and stuffed them into all these storage tubs. Closing each one and hauling them to the far end of the closet, she told herself she’d need to go through it and keep the things she really wanted and send the rest to the Goodwill bin that Nan over at the sporting goods store had set up recently in the corner of her parking lot. She growled as she searched for the handle, stretching her reach as far as she could.
“Got it!” she called out with glee, unsure if Rein was still around or not. It didn’t matter. Tiny victories. Now if it still held together, life would be good. She yanked the massive suitcase from its spot wedged between tubs and the wall. Stumbling backwards over more storage boxes, she lay for a moment, suitcase atop her, staring at the ceiling, seeing the shadowy beginnings of cracks from the house settling. Was she smart to be investing so much into renovating the old house?
“I heard a thud, Sally. You okay back there?” Rein’s voice came from the door, the view impeded by the racks of clothing hung on both sides of the narrow closet.
She struggled with the suitcase and, after hauling it over a few more obstacles, smiled as she found her way back to the door.
Rein backed away and let her through. “You know they’re still looking for Jimmy Hoffa.” He eyed her suitcase, as large as an old steamer trunk.
“What? It’s still in good shape…I think.” She grabbed the handle and it fell off in her hand. “I probably yanked on it too hard.”
He studied the luggage, not bothering to mask his skepticism.
“There’s another handle on the side.” Sally said. “It’ll be fine.”
“You’re not crossing the Atlantic, Sal. It’s a week, maybe a week and a half, tops, and it’s not as though you can’t stop by and pick up whatever you need every day.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at her.
“Ok, I realize it appears that I may be going away for longer, but this is all I’ve got other than garbage bags.”
Rein shrugged.
“Which I refuse to pack my clothes in, thank you.” Sally swiped off a thin layer of dust over the top of the case. “Besides, with the weird weather we’ve been having, I don’t know what kind of clothing I’ll need—or what kind of shoes, for that matter.
He let out a sigh, the kind that meant surrender. “Fine by me. Get her loaded and for God’s sake, don’t try to lift that thing. Call down and one of us will get it to the truck for you. Is it me, or is it listing?” He tipped his head and nudged it. “Looks like you’re missing one of the wheels.”
“Thanks.” She eyed him as he left, then hauled the monstrosity to the bed. Careful of what might leap out, she opened it, scanned the inside, and decided to lay out a clean sheet as a barrier between it and her clothing. She made a mental note to purchase a new set of luggage—if there was any money left after the renovations. Her stash that she’d held onto for years—the small inheritance her dad had left her—had been slowly dwindling with the hidden costs of renovations.
Aimee appeared at the bedroom door. “Hey, I had an appointment in town today with Doc Johnson. Thought I’d stop by and see if you needed any help packing.” Aimee walked in and sat down beside the suitcase. “I won’t lie, I’m kind of excited to have you visiting for a few days.” She looked at the case, then at Sally. “It is
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