Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
But Ava hasn’t ever given me a second look.
She probably thinks I’m too old for her.
Which I am.
I have no idea how old Sadie is, and I don’t really care because I’m not actually interested.
But she is asking, and for some reason, she chose to ask me in front of her two friends. So I don’t want to embarrass her.
“That would be nice,” I say. “What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Dinner? A movie?”
“Sounds good,” I say. “Do you have any favorite places?”
“Any place but Lorenzo’s,” Sadie says. “Their food is awesome, but since I work there, I already eat a lot of it.”
“There are some nice places in the city,” I say.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. There’s this new place called the Fortnight.”
“I heard that’s expensive,” she says.
It is expensive. And since she asked me out, maybe she’s planning to pay. How does this work, anyway, when a woman asks a man out?
“Let’s stay in town, then,” I say. “I’d offer to cook you dinner myself, except, as you know, my place is kind of out of commission.”
“I suppose I could make you dinner,” she says, “but I’ll have to make sure Nora’s out.”
“I hear you talking about me,” Nora says.
Sadie reddens a bit. “It’s nothing, Nora. We’ll just go out, Brendan. I’ll pick a place.”
Good. Sadie’s pretty and all, but I don’t want to have dinner at her place. It’s too…personal.
“Sounds good. Just let me know when.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“I think I’m free.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket to check my calendar. “I can always get Johnny or Laney to cover me at the bar.”
Sadie smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I am too.”
Not a lie, exactly. Maybe, if I get interested in Sadie, I’ll get Ava Steel off my mind.
Because right now she’s knee-deep in a conversation with her cousin, and she hasn’t given me a look all night.
CHAPTER THREE
AVA
Brock seems preoccupied, so I sip my pink squirrel, and when the glass is finally empty, I’m kind of sad.
It was pretty good.
Brock eyes the empty glass. “I guess I should’ve asked for a taste.”
“I’ll order another one if you want.”
“I’m kidding, Ava. I’m not putting whatever was in that glass in my mouth.”
“You might be surprised,” I say. “It was good.”
He finishes his beer and gestures to Brendan with his empty glass.
“Coming right up,” Brendan says. “Do you want another, Ava?”
I look at the glass. “You know, I’m not even feeling the first one. So sure, I’ll have another. And Brock, you’re going to taste this one.”
He shakes his head. “Not a chance.”
My cousin is clearly distracted. Maybe I can help get his mind off whatever’s eating him and get some information on my mystery at the same time.
“You look like you could use a diversion,” I say.
“A froufrou pink drink isn’t it.”
“Well…I have a dilemma.”
That gets his attention. The Steel men are notoriously protective of the Steel women.
“What is it? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. But I got a weird text message earlier today.”
He lowers his brow and wrinkles his forehead. “What kind of text message? Did anyone threaten you?”
I widen my eyes. “No! What would make you think that?”
He sighs. “Just a lot of shit going down.”
“At least I don’t think it’s a threat.” I grab my phone, pull up the text, and show it to Brock.
Darth Morgen is alive.
He glances at it. “Darth Morgen? Who is Darth Morgen?”
“I have no idea. It came right as I was ending a chat with my tarot group.”
Brock does me the courtesy of not rolling his eyes. My family doesn’t share my interest in the tarot, but they’re nice about it. Another reason to love them. They let me be me.
“Do you think it has something to do with your tarot group?”
“It’s not a number I recognize. And of course I searched it, and nothing came up. But I know you and your dad can get numbers traced.”
“Yeah, we can take a look at it for you,” Brock says. “But have you considered that—”
“It was a wrong number?” I nod. “Yeah, I’ve considered it.”
“Sounds kind of like a Star Wars thing.”
“That was my thought at first too. I may be a nerd in most things, but I’ve never been into Star Wars.”
“Yeah, but Dave and I are.”
“Right. Which is why I thought I’d ask you. Is Darth Morgen someone in the Star Wars universe?”
“Not that I know of. But Dave’s a bigger Star Wars geek than I am.” He fiddles with his phone. “I’ll text him.”
The bells on the door jostle, and—
“Speak of the devil,” I say.
“I was just texting you.” From Brock.
David Simpson—the third of our trio and second son to Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Bryce, and resident pretty boy of the Steel family with his dark hair and bright-blue eyes—sits down on the other side of me.