Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I go back to page sixteen after setting an alarm to remind me to stop working to get to Fairy Tales on time.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot.” My alarm went off, but I only had a tiny bit left so I kept working, and now I’m late. Not that Zack will be surprised that I got lost in my art again. He’s used to my ‘five minutes’ being more like thirty. Or more.
I swing the door open and run smack into a guy carrying a huge paper bag of books. “Oops, sorry,” I tell him, already ducking inside and away from the guy’s scowl as I push my glasses back into position. The smell of books rushes through my nose and straight into my blood. I feel . . . at home here.
In the café, Zack is sitting at a table in the middle of all the action, staring at his phone. A definite change from my usual hidey-hole in the corner where no one interrupts my reading and quiet dinners, but I’m not going to ask him to move because he’d totally give me a hard time about it. Leaning against the chair across from him, I drawl out, “What’s so important that you’re willing to come here to see me?”
Unbothered, Zack looks up with a smile. “Have a seat.”
He kicks the chair out next to him, but I see the flash of disappointment on his face when he takes me in. My baggy overalls, tank top, and Converse aren’t exactly Zack’s style. In contrast, his hair is styled perfectly, his glasses spotless, his button-up shirt tucked in, and though the rest of him is beneath the table, I know he’s wearing slacks and dress shoes. The quintessential businessman to my creative artist. For siblings, we couldn’t be more different.
“Let me order first.” I hold out my hand for his card, which he hands over wordlessly. My brother is nothing if not predictable, and an agreeable Zack doesn’t bode well.
I spin and head to the counter. “Hey, Lydia. How’re you?”
Lydia is here most weeks when I come, and we’ve gotten to be friendly, which mostly means she talks and I listen. Lately, she’s been telling me about the guy in her economics class she’s crushing on. After hearing the tea, I order one of my own. “Chai tea latte and a Greek salad, please.” I swipe Zack’s card, but as Lydia hands me the receipt, she gasps.
“Who’s that?”
Without looking, I answer, “My brother.”
“No, I recognized him. I mean . . . him.” She purses her lips, indicating the table behind me, and I glance back.
“What the—” I gasp, spinning back around so he doesn’t see me staring.
Him is my brother’s best friend and business partner, Carter Harrington, who’s sitting at the table with Zack. Carter looks like a model in an Armani photo shoot wearing a black suit, blue shirt, and dark blue power tie. Even from here, his blue eyes pop, his tan looks island-vacation fresh, and his jaw is sharp and square.
“Don’t get excited,” I warn Lydia. “Carter’s the devil in disguise.” When she leans forward eagerly, I know it’s my turn to return the gossip. “He’s my brother’s best friend, richer than God, handsome and knows it, bossy because he assumes he knows best, and an all-around annoyance. And he’s not supposed to be here.”
Lydia raises one brow as she leans around me to peer at Carter and Zack. “Well, I for one don’t mind that he showed up uninvited. Especially when your negatives are rich, handsome, and bossy.” She ticks the traits off on her fingers, adding, “Girl, that’s what I’m looking for in a man. I can teach him everything else he needs to know.”
She forgot annoying, but I don’t argue the point. It doesn’t matter when her eyes are more glazed than a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. Returning to the table, I throw out a hand to indicate Carter and speak only to Zack. “Is this why you’re bribing me with dinner and books?”
“I can hear you, ya know?” Carter responds. Out of the corner of my eye—because I’m not giving Carter Harrington a moment of my full-eyed attention—I can see that he’s grinning in amusement at my irritation. He probably gets off on it, I think wryly.
I don’t react, keeping hard eyes on Zack. He’s the one who owes me an answer. “Sit down. Please. And yes, this is what I want to talk to you about. I mean, he is.”
Slowly, I lower to the chair with a ‘nope’ already on the tip of my tongue for whatever Zack wants.
“Thank you,” Zack says with a placating nod. “I’ve called you both here tonight to discuss an opportunity,” he starts, sounding like a salesman on late night television. Although, if he starts trying to sell me some ever-sharp knives, I might be buying, because I might have an immediate use for them. “Luna, I found a potential client for Carter, but he needs help. That’s where you come in.”