Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
As we near the crosswalk, Banks peers ahead with curious eyes. I follow his gaze to the end of the block where a man’s popping out of a real estate office.
“I think that’s…Sawyer,” Banks says.
“Is he someone you met on one of your various shopping excursions for toys or bikes?”
With a smile, Banks shakes his head. “All good guesses. Actually, I ran into him at Mister Fox, with Monroe. We played pool one night.”
Banks calls out to the dark-haired man who looks a touch out of place in his button-down shirt and charcoal slacks. Sawyer’s more business-y than most people I see in town. When he hears his name, he turns around. It takes him a few seconds, then he must recognize my guy since the corner of his lips curve up and he says, “Banks.”
We catch up to him on the corner of the street, and Banks makes quick intros, then nods to the real estate office. “Is that ‘maybe’ turning into a definite?”
“Maybe,” Sawyer answers, but it’s said in a hopeful tone.
“Aren’t you elusive?” Banks jokes.
“I don’t want to jinx anything,” Sawyer says, then turns to me. “I might be opening a business here.”
“You should,” I say, ready to sing Darling Springs’s praises. Except, wait. “It’s not a competing lavender farm, is it?”
“Ripley will fight you on that,” Banks warns.
“I would never dare. Not when there’s a world-class one already here,” Sawyer says.
I look to Banks approvingly. “I like him. You may keep him as a friend.”
“Thanks,” he says dryly.
I turn my focus back to Sawyer. “I hope it works out. This is a great place to live and to run a business. Ideally, one that sells my lavender at checkout.”
Sawyer flashes a confident smile. “If the deal comes through, I’ll sell your lavender. That’s a promise. And hopefully I’ll see you both around.”
“Yes, and for another round of pool since I like taking your money.”
“I don’t like that part. But I do need some pool,” Sawyer says, then sighs heavily as he meets Banks’s gaze. “So much stuff to figure out.”
“Then that round should be sooner rather than later.”
Sawyer gives a nod, then heads in the opposite direction, passing the dog day care where Chloe sometimes works. He pauses briefly at the window. For a second, I wonder if she caught his eye, but I probably just have romance on my mind.
I focus on Banks, squeezing his hand. “You look good in Darlings Springs.”
“Good thing I plan to be here quite a bit.”
It sure is.
We start making plans for what happens now that the job is over and our life together is beginning.
EPILOGUE
RIPLEY
I’m not a fashion girlie, but some truths are immutable, and this is one: Thou shalt show your red-carpet dress to your besties.
In my Los Angeles hotel room with my phone balanced on the bureau, I do the obligatory twirl for Chloe and Bridget via FaceTime. They’re at Bridget’s house.
“What do you think?”
Bridget taps her chin. “I mean, it’s kind of your color,” she deadpans.
Chloe smacks her shoulder, then turns to the screen. “She means it’s totally your color, and you look perfect.”
“You two are such assholes, and I love you.”
“Love you too,” Bridget says, then Chloe brings my dog into the frame and adds, “Hudson says hi.”
I blow him a kiss, then they sign off.
I take a look in the mirror, and they’re right—lavender is my color. The satiny dress is a simple sheath with wide straps, and it hits at the knees. My hair is down, curling over my shoulders, and my fingernails are unpolished.
I feel dressed up, but still…like me.
It’s a good feeling. But I feel even better a few minutes later when my escort knocks on the hotel-room door. It’s our hotel room—we’re staying here together, but he stepped out to let me finish getting ready.
When I open the door, his breath hitches. “You look incredible,” he rumbles.
I feel incredible too, under his heated gaze. “Maybe I’ll let you spank me later.”
“A man can dream,” he says.
“We share the same dreams,” I say as I smooth a hand down his dark-blue dress shirt. He’s wearing a charcoal suit tonight, with no tie. The combo is doing things to me. He looks hot and all mine—just the way I like it.
“We better go before I toss you on the bed and have my way with you.”
“Later,” I say.
He offers me his arm, and I take it. Together, we head to the theater for the premiere of Someone Else’s Ring, several months after it was shot in my hometown.
The lightbulbs don’t flash when I step out of the limo. The cameras don’t pop. The entertainment press has figured out—mostly—that I’m not my sister. It took a little time and some strapless dresses for them to learn the difference. But I also know the world is fascinated with identical twins, so sometimes we give them what they want—a shot of us together.