Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“Why do you always wear those?”
“Wear what?”
“The four-inch heels.”
“I wear just as many flats, but when I’m in front of people, at a meeting, at a fundraiser, doing anything where I need to be on,” she said, emphasizing the word, “I like to feel super confident, and being taller helps.”
“This is not a big wedding. Why would you need to be on?”
“Because this is a huge deal. You included me, and I’ll be standing there with Mr. Mancuso and Ian, and those are people you love and—”
“Love is laying it on a bit thick. I do not love Ian Doyle.”
She squinted at me. “No?”
“Absolutely not,” I snapped at her.
“What about Mr. Mancuso?”
“Hell no. Why would you think I did?”
“Because of all the people in the world, you chose him and Ian and me, and I know you love me, so—”
“I do not love—”
“Don’t you say it because I know you’re lying and you’ll hurt my feelings.”
God.
“And don’t groan like you’re dying either.”
“For the love of—”
“It’s important to me. Since you bestowed this honor on me, I wanted to make sure I looked amazing.”
In her suit, that according to Jing was something special, she did, in fact, look beautiful. She was elegant, and I appreciated her making that effort for me even if the shoes were ridiculous.
“Well, you look beautiful, so thank you.”
She beamed, then stopped and opened the door to this room overlooking the forest, which now resembled a fall postcard. Inside, it was done in warm shades of brown and ivory. There were several throws, thick rugs on hardwood floors, and various-sized embroidered cushions. I liked the window seat on one end and the fireplace roaring away on the other. The carved-wood furniture, the built-in bookcases, and an oversize tufted ottoman made the room feel so comfortable, I wanted to take a nap right then and there. Kurt must have had a similar feeling, as he was lying on one of the couches, throw pillow behind his head, while Jory Harcourt sat on the other end. Jill Mancuso and Noah Wheeler sat together in matching chairs with ottomans across from them.
“Hello, George,” Jory greeted me, smiling as Hannah joined him, flopping down—somehow still gracefully—beside him.
“What’s going on in here?” I asked.
“We were filling Kurt in on the perils of being in love with a hero.”
I glanced over at Jill Mancuso, blond, tan, beautiful. A California girl by birth and temperament, kind, sympathetic, in love with the endless summer. Noah Wheeler, with his soft brown eyes and now graying chestnut hair, handsome in an understated, classic way, a man who worked outdoors, who loved nature. And finally Jory, with his dirty-blond mop and surprising brown eyes, his smile radiating warmth as he gazed at his daughter. He was strikingly beautiful, with his cheekbones, his coloring, and his expressive brows.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, walking over to Kurt, so relieved when he immediately put down the cup of tea he was drinking and took my hand. “What are you talking about?”
“The other partners,” Jill began, “they’re heroes too, so they intuitively understand. Like Efrem, who was with Homeland, and Owen the brilliant hacker, and Miro Jones the marshal. Mr. Sutter, whom I met downstairs, is technically still in our club.”
“What club is this?”
“The regular people.”
“Oh, none of you are—”
“You misunderstand,” Noah said, stopping me. “Jill’s not saying we’re less than, just that we’re mere mortals living with heroes.”
“Not a knight among us,” Jill said with a grin.
I remained quiet.
“We all love soldiers,” Jory said flatly. “All of them go off to do battle every day. Some, like you, put on real armor, while others, like the chief deputy, only on occasion. Jill’s husband, and Noah’s, they’re heroes who go out into the world and fix, in many different ways, what is broken. They face head-on the choices other people have made, and again, like you, put their lives on the line for the greater good.”
“No, I’m not like them. I’m a soldier, and mostly the person who coordinates private security and—”
Kurt scoffed, and I turned to him.
“We’re being honest right now,” he said, squeezing my hand. “In some capacity, you protect people every day. You step between them and bullets, run into danger, and go to the scariest places in the world to bring others home.”
“Kurt, I—”
“Don’t tell me you’re not a hero,” he said, his voice going out on him for a moment. “Please.”
“I’m a soldier. We’re all the same. We have to keep our country safe.”
“Which I get, or I thought I did. But it’s hard for me to know that anytime you’re deployed, you might not come home. That’s not so easy to live with.”
I crouched down beside the couch. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want me.” I was terrified of his answer.
“Of course not,” he said, reaching out and taking my face in his hands. Drawing me forward, he kissed me gently.