The Woman By the Lake (MISTED PINES #3) by Kristen Ashley EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Kristen Ashley
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.4 MB
- Price: Free
Weaver Cabin
Nadia
The mailbox I was told to look out for, as suspected from the description,
was hard to miss.
There were four huge planters surrounding it frothing with peach, pink
and orange impatiens. The mailbox itself was a shiny stainless steel with the
words Weaver Cabin painted on the side. It was held aloft by a twisted
branch, which, only when I turned in and got close, could I see was actually
burnished steel with fake, metal leaves on it.
Last, it was unique and incredibly pretty.
And seeing it made some of the anxiety I had about the decision I’d
made start to ebb away.
The lane to the cabin meandered with gentle curves and was edged in
small boulders, many of which had bright-green moss growing on them.
The lane was also longer than I expected.
It’d be quite a hike to get my mail in the morning.
And it meant my home for the next year was seriously secluded.
Finally, the cabin came into view, and the instant I saw it, the
reservations that had recently sprung up about the seclusion of Weaver
Cabin vanished.
One story, smallish, with a carport attached that would protect my SUV
from the elements on all sides but the front. The roof of the timber house
was blue tin, and a porch ran the length of the face of the structure.
On the porch was an arrangement of two rocking chairs—one yellow,
one red, both with cute pillows on them—sharing what appeared to be an
old whisky barrel as a table, which was topped with an arrangement of fresh
wildflowers in a mason jar. At the other side of the veranda, there was a
porch swing with a fluffy pad and more sweet pillows.
Yes, a porch swing.
There were lanterns scattered about, along with a plethora of different
sized pots and hanging baskets, these filled with more impatiens, plus
petunias, begonias, pansies and fuchsias.
It was colorful and charming. A hundred times better than the pictures I
saw of it when I was deciding where to go, and those pictures had
captivated me, so that seemed impossible.
But there it was, right before me.
Colorful and charming also pertained to the man standing on the porch,
not to mention his beat-up, old, faded-white Ford pickup parked off to the
side.
He had white hair pulled back, probably in a ponytail, a farmer’s cap on
his head. Scruffy white beard. Weathered skin. Plaid shirt.
And faded denim overalls.
Overalls!
Yes, that anxiety was fading fast.
I swung around the front, switched off the ignition and exited my
vehicle with a small smile on my face.
“You Miz Williams?” he called.
I didn’t wince at the name I’d never changed and tried not to use, but it
was the name on all legal documents.
Including rental contracts.
“Yes. But I’m Nadia. Are you Dave Weaver?” I called back, moving
across the gravel path to the wooden front steps (all lined with pots of
flowers, including parts of the gravel).
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