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)
I grit my teeth, knowing that was probably her mother’s doing.
I also wonder if her marriage falling apart fed Julia Sage’s health mania.
“What else is on the crazy list? The interesting one.”
She steps out of my arms and looks at her phone, bringing up the next bookstore on her list, finding directions to it and leading me in that direction.
“Just the usual stuff. Pretty mountains, picturesque oceans, lots of pampering. I want to swim with dolphins or check out sea lions up close. I’d love to see New Zealand if I’m really lucky. But honestly, I’ll settle for anything with cool history or movie scene vibes.”
“Never took you for a dolphin girl, Pages.”
She wrinkles her nose as she grins up at me, her skin freckling from the summer sun. “Maybe you don’t know me that well yet.”
“Book nerd on the outside, marine biologist on the inside. Got it.”
She laughs, and the sound warms me.
“You make me sound more interesting than I am.”
“Not fucking possible.” Before she can drag me too far out of my way, I lean down and kiss her forehead. “I need to head in to the office for a meeting, though. A couple presentations on deck for the ski lodge plans. You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own?”
She raises her eyebrows.
“With books? I’ll be fine, Ethan.”
“See you at home, then. Try not to lose track of time and end up in another dimension.”
“No promises, but go!” She flashes me an adorably wicked look before she waves and runs across the road with her bag knocking against her hip.
Reluctantly, I turn and head to the office several blocks away, speedwalking through the sweltering midday crowds.
Five tortuous hours later—after it feels like my head’s been pushed through a paper shredder and set on fire—I return to my parents’ house via Uber.
Hattie’s still lost in the city’s bookstores. I’m not worried since she’s been sending me photos of her finds nonstop.
When I get home, Margot waits in the living room, a tablet on her lap with some shoe design feeding her damned obsession.
“Hello, Brother,” she says with a sharp smile.
Great.
The last thing I want to deal with right now is my sister and her snide comments about my fake engagement.
“Why are you here?”
“Flew in to help Mom round out her shoe choices for the next charity bash. I convinced her to go custom and I have an eye for it. Good thing too since it’s never been her strong point.” She rolls her eyes, and I roll mine back. “What about you?”
“Business.”
“Okay. Is that why you brought Hattie?”
I glare at her. “Leave her out of this.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were the clingy type. Man, you’re taking this seriously.” Margot grins. At least someone’s having fun at my expense. “Dragging her around to boring meetings while she drags you to bookstores. How many have you been to so far? Thirty?”
“Fuck off, Margot.”
“You realize books are her passion, right? You’ll never compare.”
If I didn’t know how much she loves them, I’d have figured it out after the first half-dozen bookstores this morning.
That’s when I checked out—partly because I had a meeting, partly because the smell of old pages activates new allergies after a while.
But I don’t miss the way Hattie’s face lights up when she’s with her true love. And I’ll do just about anything to see her like that again.
No way in iced-over hell will I breathe a word of that to Margot, though.
“She’s a booklover,” I snap. “So what?”
“It’s not the book lovin’, dearest Brother. It’s the fact that you’re humoring her.”
I scowl. “Do you really expect me to be an asshole constantly?”
“You’ve had a lifetime of practice.”
“Pot and kettle,” I snarl, heading past her to make a drink from the wet bar. “You want anything? I’m ready to cool off and calm down. It’s been hot as hell today.”
“I’m good.” She yawns and follows me over to the bar, sitting on the counter and watching me as I pour some of Dad’s scotch.
Ending the day with Margot requires something strong.
“Why don’t you go dig out your old dollhouse and stop bothering me?”
“And let you bring Hattie around here without being relentlessly teased? Never.” She takes the glass of white wine I reluctantly pass over and holds it up in a salute.
If I’m drinking with her on my ass, I’m not doing it alone, and I don’t care whether she wants it or not.
“Should’ve known you’d be a brat about it,” I mutter, taking a long pull.
“It’s what I do. But I’ve legit never seen you so whipped.”
“I’m not whipped, Margot. Shut it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Right. Because you’d totally go bookstore crawling with any girl.”
She laughs.
“In case you missed it, I’m not about to marry just any girl.”
“Oh, right,” she says, touching her chin with one finger as she pretends to think. “This fake marriage. Except I know you’re screwing.”