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)
“Do it for me, Moony,” he asks sweetly. “Please?”
Ugh. He pulled out the nickname only he has ever been allowed to use because he’s the one who gave it to me. Apparently, I went through a bit of a nudist phase as a toddler and liked to run around the house naked. That, coupled with my name, earned me the nickname ‘Full Moon’, which was shortened to Moony over time. And using that means he’s pulling out the big guns.
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Fine, but no promises. I can’t possibly make him an expert in a “couple” of tutoring sessions. Tell him to meet me at my place tomorrow at eight P.M. sharp. I’m only doing this for you, and I already regret it.”
“It’ll be fine. He just needs to be conversational. And thank you.”
Zack stands, probably trying to make a run for it before I change my mind, but I clear my throat. “Unless you’re leaving your card with me, we have some shopping to do before you go.”
He laughs and throws a twenty on the table for Lydia. Considering he only got a cup of coffee and she packed my salad and latte to-go, that’s generous. I hate to admit it, because I do live frugally to be able to chase my passions, but money is a necessity and Lydia will be grateful for the tip on a slow Monday night.
But my Mama didn’t raise a fool, and I’m still getting the new books Zack promised me. “Come on, the art history section is back here.”
CHAPTER
THREE
CARTER
I look up and down the hall as I wait for Luna to answer her door. The building isn’t what I expected for Zack’s little sister. He owns several rental properties, a couple of Airbnbs, a commercial strip mall that’s fully occupied, and his own home. Yet, his sister is living one step above a dorm. It’s clean, but bland and basic.
The door opens, and I forget all about the boring building. She’s . . . a vision.
“What’re you doing here? Our session isn’t till eight.”
Her hair is piled on top of her head, her black-rimmed glasses are slid down her nose, her pink sweatpants are slung around her hips, and her cropped gray T-shirt has fallen off her shoulder to reveal the straps of a white sports bra. For some reason, there’s also a black smudge on her right cheek.
And it’s cute as fuck.
“Huh?” I ask in confusion. She makes it sound like I’m interrupting something in her busy schedule. There’s only one issue with that. “It’s two minutes after.”
“What?” Her brows scrunch together in confusion as she looks over her shoulder. She must see a clock somewhere because she shrugs carelessly. “Oh. I was doing yoga, and then I got caught up with work, I guess. Come in.”
Inside, I’m greeted with a tiny studio filled with a hodge-podge of furniture that reminds me of a post-college dumpster diving collection. Not that I ever did that. My college experience was one of private apartments decorated by the designer my mother hired, and since then, my homes have been the same.
But where my homes have abstract, forgettable art to fill the walls, Luna’s apartment is filled with canvases in a myriad of styles. From here, I can see every wall of the small space, each of them covered floor to ceiling with colorful pops of eye candy. There’s so much to look at that I can’t even absorb it all at once. “Interesting place.”
“Interesting,” Luna says, though I’m not sure whether she’s echoing me or making her own comment on my judgment. She walks past me into the single room. “Have a seat.”
She gestures to the small couch that’s covered in a patchwork quilt and takes the chair for herself, curling up cross-legged in it. Behind her glasses, her gaze is hard and accusatory, but I don’t know why.
“Thank you again for doing this. It’ll really help me out,” I try, hoping to garner some favor.
“Zack told me to name my price, so . . . so it’s five hundred dollars an hour.”
I cough, choking on my own saliva. “Five hundred an hour?” Finding my voice again, I snipe, “I wasn’t expecting you to be a gold digger.”
Her cheeks flush immediately. “I’m not, but I’m also not stupid, and Zack has beaten negotiating tactics into my head since I was a kid. You need me more than I need you,” she explains, but she shifts in her seat, telling me that she’s not as confident as she’s trying to appear. “I could just as easily work tonight. Plus, you can afford it.”
“You’re taking advantage of me because I’m wealthy?” Despite whatever Zack has taught her, Luna has always seemed like more of an intellect than a financial whiz, so I’m surprised she’s going straight for my wallet.