Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
* * *
The next day, I force myself out of bed with the promise of a cinnamon latte and a bear claw.
The best perk of freelancing is my coffee break comes whenever I want it.
At Sweeter Grind, I place my order and find an empty table by the window. I plug my laptop in so I can work on a client’s site design. I power it on and take a huge bite of the bear claw.
Ugh. It’s as dry as sandpaper.
Then again, I haven’t really enjoyed food in weeks. Maybe Sweeter Grind isn’t suffering from quality control, and it’s just me.
“Brina Bristol!” the barista calls.
I walk to the counter and get my drink. There’s only one cup on the counter. It has my name on it, but it can’t be for me. White foam spells out I’m sorry, and three little hearts float above the foam.
“Umm—sorry, but I don’t think this is mine,” I say.
“Hang on.” The barista walks from the mini fridge over to the counter. “You had your usual, right?”
“I didn’t order latte art so it must be a mix-up.”
“Your boyfriend ordered it,” she says with a smile.
“I...I’m single.”
She shrugs. “The guy you left with the day you were here with the two dudes back in the winter? Sorry if he’s bothering you. He told me he just wanted to apologize.”
With a heavy sigh, I nod.
So much for staying the hell out of my life.
I stop by the condiment bar, take a stirrer, beat the foam to the sides of the cup, and slap a lid over it. The buzz of conversation and clinking plates seems louder than normal today, but I guess that’s how it is when the days are getting longer and it’s starting to feel like early spring.
I’m never going to get any work done here. I grab my pastry and head to the park since it’s just warm enough.
I plop down on the bench beside that stupid statue. The same bench I sat on the day I met Magnus Heron, watching his entourage prancing through the park.
Over on the walking path, a man about the same height as Mag has a brunette tucked under his arm. It’s obvious even from my distance she’s the only person here he sees.
With all the people swirling around the park today, she’s also the only person I envy.
Someday, I want to be looked at like her.
And she’s got a fine man, don’t get me wrong. But my guy was taller, broader, better dressed, and his eyes flayed me open.
A plane flies overhead, its engine growling so loudly I look up. It’s an older-looking machine, and weirdly low for being so close to downtown Chicago.
It takes me a moment to realize the puffs of smoke in the contrail are spelling out words, little by little. I gaze up, watching as the letters disappear, fully invested until I realize what it says.
When it gets to, I’m sorry, B— I’m done.
A skywriter? Really?
He hired a flipping skywriter?
Jesus. I’m going to Logan Square. Paige and her mom said I can use her old bedroom anytime I need to hide from the lunatic. That time is now, because I’m questioning my resolve.
Reaching for my laptop, I realize it’s missing.
Great. I left it at Sweeter Grind. I hope like hell it’s still there as I head for the crosswalk.
As soon as the Walk sign turns white, I dart across the street. A black town car pulls into an empty space on the curb.
Holy hell.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I’d slap my head but I don’t have time. I have to dodge a diesel truck barreling toward me and get across the street. Just when I’m winding up to spit hot latte in self-defense, it happens.
Jordan Quail steps out of the car.
Thank God.
They got him home. Big surprise. I never had any doubt Mag would save his little brother. He’s the ruler of the universe and always succeeds, even if he had to confront his pond scum of a dad.
“Hey, Brina!” Jordan waves and flashes me a big smile. “Armstrong knew we’d find you here.”
I step to the sidewalk and hold my arm out. “Hi, Jordan.”
When he reaches me, we hug.
“I’m so glad you’re home safe. How are you doing?” I ask.
His feet are planted firmly on the ground. Since he’ll be sticking around for a minute and I need my laptop...
“Walk with me. I left my computer in Sweeter Grind and I have to find it,” I tell him. “Are you glad to be back?”
“Hell yeah. Things got pretty crazy for a while, Brina.” He follows me back to the building, matching my pace. “Turns out, my dad’s a way bigger jerk than Mag ever said.”
Wow. That’s something considering Magnus wants to kill their father.
“He is?”
“Yeah. He told me we were going to his fancy hotel with an indoor pool and stuff until Mom could get out of the hospital, but then he took me to the Virgin Islands. I was scared. I wanted to get off the plane when we were still on the runway, but he wouldn’t let me.”