Confessions of a Girl-Next-Door Read Online Free PDF

He’d completed half of them already, doing much of the work himself in the off-season. Gone were the mismatched furnishings and bedding, the ancient appliances and wornvinyl flooring. What he’d replaced them with weren’t high-end, but they were durable, fresh, contemporary and comfortable. And the cottages now sported neutral color schemes and even some artwork from a local woman who specialized in nature views. They weren’t as good as the ones captured by Lengard, but they complemented the decor and had helped bring some commissions the young artist’s way.
    Last year he’d added Wi-Fi and cable television, and he’d partnered with a local couple to offer guided hikes through the huge swath of federally owned land on the northern tip of the island that was home to all sorts of wildlife, including a couple of endangered bird species. In the spring, when the morel mushroom hunters came, he’d joined forces with one of the island’s restaurants for cooking demonstrations. In addition to families and fishermen, his resort now appealed to naturalists and others embracing a greener lifestyle.
    Winters were still pretty quiet. Only the heartiest of tourists ventured north during that time of year. But already he was making plans to attract more snowshoers, cross-country skiers and snowmobilers, which waswhy he had purchased another dozen acres of land just beyond what he owned now with plans to add trails and maybe even a few more cabins down the road.
    His parents were impressed with the changes he’d made, even though he’d suggested most of them while they still owned the place. But the status quo had been good enough for them. He’d understood and accepted that. But within days of the transfer in ownership, he’d rolled up his sleeves and begun the transformation.
    Now, business was up. Not just for his resort, but for other establishments on the island, thanks to a joint marketing campaign that he’d spearheaded. The head of the local chamber of commerce hadn’t been pleased, since Nate basically had gone around Victor Montague’s back. But everyone else was happy with the results.
    Yes, he was proud of what he’d accomplished. Proud of what he’d made not only of the resort, but also of his life. Which was why it galled him to find himself glancing around his kitchen, another of his renovation projects, and wondering what Holly thought of his quaint home and simple life.
    “Nate?” Hank gazed at him quizzically.
    After another swig of beer, he muttered, “Definitely, she’s out of my league.”
    Holly stood at the base of the steps. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop on Nate’s conversation with Hank, but it was hard not to hear the men. The house was small. Their voices carried.
    Out of his league?
    She supposed she could understand how Nate would think that. He wasn’t the first person, man or woman, who had acted as if she were made of priceless spun glass. A number of her childhood friends had become overly deferential and awkward around her once they had finally grasped her status as their future monarch. She recalled how isolated it had made her feel. How utterly lonely.
    “That’s just the way it is,” her mother had told her matter-of-factly when she complained. “They treat you differently because you are different. You’re special, Hollyn.”
    Holly hadn’t wanted to be “special.” She’d wanted friends. True friends who wouldn’t purposely lose at board games or let her pick the movie every time they got together. Friends who would confide their secrets.Friends in whom she could confide hers and not risk having her private thoughts written up in the tabloids. That had happened when she was fourteen. She’d complained about an argument with her mother, who’d felt Holly was too young to wear makeup. The headline in the
Morenci Daily
two days later read: “Queen and her teen nearly come to blows over mascara.”
    Her mother had been livid. Holly had been crushed, and, hence