Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Yes, you’ve been keeping her hidden away far too long,” Delly says, sending me a wink. “This simply must be the best torte in the state, by the way.”
“Call me Junie, please.”
“Well, we are family now, or near enough.” She beams at me, oblivious to the way every muscle in my body locks up at the idea.
Dexter trails his hand along my shoulder and down my arm, and I exhale, forcibly relaxing.
“Coffee,” Oliver says, putting two cups down in front of us. His brows shoot up when he sees us, but he knows not to say anything. “Would you like anything else? Anything for you, sir?”
“Nothing right now, thanks.” Dexter smiles up at Oliver like I’m not already mortified enough.
Holy hell, I need to know where he went to acting school. I could use a tenth of his superpowers.
Also, the gossip from the staff is going to be brutal tomorrow. As our newest hire, Oliver never misses a chance to blab to the others and build his cred around here.
Delly takes a long sip of coffee and sighs as she sets down her cup.
“I’m beginning to understand how you lured him in.” She gives her son a quick, sharp smile. “He loves his coffee. Especially good honest coffee like this.”
“We only source the best. Right now, we’re serving up a crowd pleaser from this little shop in Heart’s Edge, Montana.”
“Heart’s Edge?” Delly echoes warmly. “Sounds like a romantic place. You two should add it to your honeymoon list.”
Honeymoon?
My heartbeat doubles.
Good thing we’ll never get that far.
I store that little snippet away for the future, though. Understanding Dexter Rory is like peeling back an onion. It can’t hurt to know the very few things he enjoys, especially if I’m going to convince his family we’re madly in love.
“Actually, I didn’t even know about this place until—” He stops and glances at me like he can’t remember. “Was it the third date? After we finished fighting over AI art?”
I get what he’s doing. Together, we’re weaving our narrative, just like we did with Nana, and he needs me to play along.
“You mean after I kicked your butt when you couldn’t show me an AI art engine that can make human hands? And then you told me you hate all things sugar and I considered walking out right there?” I smile, praying it doesn’t look too fake. “Yeah, I remember. Third date.”
Delly leans forward, clasping her hands together. “So how did you meet? Dexter said something about a museum?”
“The Nelson-Atkins,” Dexter says. “She’s an art nerd just like you.”
“Oh!” I think Delly’s eyes blow up like golf balls. That’s where Dexter gets his charm, I think, even if on the surface it comes out very differently. “How lovely. You see, the very reason I came here, dear, was to invite you to my art show this weekend.”
“Art show?” I glance at Dexter, whose face stays impassive, though his fingers dip gently into my flesh.
This must be it.
The thing he warned me about, the inevitable formal introduction to his family, and I certainly can’t back out now.
“I’d love to, Delly. I’m no art snob. I just love our local scene.”
“You’ll fit right in!” She beams, and I look away. Seeing how happy she is doesn’t make this any easier. “It’s a casual affair. I do like to hold these little fundraisers sometimes. Dexter’s brothers have already said they’d be there, and I would love to make it a family event.”
“We’ll be there with bells on,” Dexter promises so gruffly I laugh. “Though next time you want to pounce on Junie, Mother, give me fair warning first.”
“Oh, stop. It’s fine,” I say hurriedly, digging my elbow into Dexter’s side. He’s not in any position to complain about unexpected visits. And judging by the wry smile he aims at me, he’s well aware. “It’s been fun meeting you, Delly.”
“And you, Juniper.” She finishes her coffee and rises. “I really should go and stop disturbing you at work. I can’t wait to see you on Sunday.”
“Same,” I manage as she floats out of the store, somehow managing to command the attention of every single person there.
Not that there are many now—we’re coming up on close and we don’t have extended hours today, so the only people left in the store are being politely herded out by Sarah.
She glances my way and nods politely at Dexter, then twists the sign and switches off the lights.
Lights that are now fixed thanks to his money.
I slide the ring off my finger and sag back into the chair. Dexter removes his arm, and I try to pretend I can’t sense the eyes of every Sugar Bowl employee glued to us like we’re a freaking live reality show.
I’m never, ever going to live it down.
“Sorry about that,” Dexter says. “I came the second I heard. Didn’t have much notice she was going to descend on you.”