Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Whoa.
Unusual for sure, but not harmful, right?
I smile and nod, taking another sip of wine.
“You asked,” he teases. “Believe me, that’s a light intro to the eccentric streak in this family. Should I brief you now on the rest, or later?”
I swallow roughly.
“Um, I suppose I should know what I’m marrying in to. Is their weirdness why you left Portland years ago?”
His almost-smile disappears. Irritation rolls over his face like a gathering storm.
“Margot must have told you,” he snaps, tossing the rest of his wine back in one gulp. “I enlisted.”
Oof, touchy.
Getting more out of him feels like trying to milk a rock.
“Okay, fine. You went into the Army and you served your time—thank you, by the way. But what happened? Is that what kept you from coming home?”
“Portland isn’t really home,” he growls, raising an arrogant eyebrow again. “And what do you think happened, Pages? A cakewalk called Syria.”
“What, you mean it’s classified?”
He shakes his head.
Then he gives me nothing, staring at his plate as he eats.
The silence shoots heat through my veins. So does that ridiculous nickname.
Pages.
How many times did he snarl it with the ugliest tone when we were kids?
All because I loved to read and I could talk with Margot and Leo forever about grown-up subjects.
“You know what? Fine,” I snap. “Don’t talk to me then, asshole.”
A woman glances over from the next table.
I throw up a fake smile so bright it hurts.
Ethan presses his lips together, but this time I think it might be because he’s tempted to smile.
“I could only hack the military life for so long,” he says, his voice softening. “The place was a damn mess with so many groups at each other’s throats and you were always on edge, but it was doable. Later, we were stretched thin, and the government decided to get creative. That’s when the mercenaries came, private groups with a ton of leeway. That’s when I was done. They brought in bad actors, men who were happy to do things no ordinary soldier could get away with.”
“What things?” My pulse quickens.
His eyes are flat.
“Better you don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. That’s why I came around and made peace with the family business, after I had some time to clear my head out west. Compared to that snake pit overseas, Blackthorn Holdings didn’t have nearly as many vipers.”
“Oh,” I say lamely. “I suppose that’s understandable.”
This time, Ethan does smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re like the empty pages at the end of a book, blank and unreadable.
“Less danger, for one. In business, I’ll always make it home in one piece, even if I don’t follow orders like a wind-up toy. There’s also only half as many backstabbers.”
The bleakness in his expression chills me.
But there’s something else, too.
Some kind of guarded hurt that aches like a bruise when it’s touched. I also know he’s not going to talk about it for long if I keep poking.
“Tell me about you,” he says abruptly. He’s toying with the stem of his glass now, looking at me intently.
The weight of that question feels heavy, and my stomach squirms.
“Um.” I fumble around for my train of thought. “Well, nothing as interesting as your career, I’m sure.”
“Tell me. I haven’t been in this game that long. My career change doesn’t count for much.” His gaze sharpens. “Let me guess: college, work promotion? Margot always talked like you had it figured out from age ten. Surprised you weren’t married off by now—and damn good thing you weren’t, for my sake.”
My heart clenches.
“Actually… I haven’t figured out exactly what I want to do yet.” I shift awkwardly in my seat. All this would be easier if he wasn’t looking at me like that. “I started a library program, but it didn’t work out.”
Yes, I dropped out.
Far from a college grad, I’m a quitter and a loser.
Two fun terms shelved right next to failure in Mom’s girthy thesaurus.
“You left?” His brows pull together. “And you were studying to be a librarian? Damn. I always figured you’d be a big-time writer or something.”
Or something, indeed.
“That’s a hard thing to break into. You need to know the right people, or you need a small fortune for ads and influencers to promote your stuff. Cranking out books doesn’t pay the bills unless you’re super lucky.”
“So what’s the new plan?”
“I work at a bookstore. For now.”
He laughs gruffly.
“I’m glad, Pages. You always were a book brat. Remember when we were kids and Margot would run off to tan or look for crabs? You’d hide in the shade with a book. The monster stories were pretty cool, though.”
“You mean the Greek mythology?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, that. The guy who got jerked around for years, trying to come home… feels relatable. The Odyssey? That’s what I get for sleeping through classic lit. Frankly, I would’ve been pissed if you didn’t wind up with books.”