Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
He really is a little boy, I think.
All that money and he’s never learned how to handle rejection well.
It confuses him, hurts him, and I think he’s stuck on that. But at least he’s not being totally ugly about it.
On the scale of don’t care to raging mantrum, this is pretty light.
I smile. Just because I’m not that interested in hooking up doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly, and I want him to know it.
“I promise,” I say. “If anything comes up with the school, I’ll call you first thing.”
“You better,” he says darkly.
Before I can react to that, another voice speaks up.
“If Ulysses cannot handle it,” the new voice says, rich with its strange old-world accent, “you can always call on me.”
If I thought of Ulysses as immature before, it’s nothing compared to the guilty flinch that makes his eyes widen as his father’s voice rolls over us.
Montero Arrendell.
We both turn simultaneously.
Montero stands just a few feet behind us, a dramatic figure under a streetlamp that makes him look like he just stepped out of an old noir film. He’s all stern shadows and reflections with his ivory skin, black hair, and neatly pressed black suit.
The only hints of color are the tints of amber from the light and those jade eyes so much like his son’s. They watch me with the same intensity that makes me feel like he can see right through me.
“Mr. Arrendell,” I greet him uncertainly.
A smile instantly softens the saber-sharp lines of his features. His eyes gentle as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
“Miss Clarendon,” he says. “I hope I didn’t startle you. I saw you two walking, and I couldn’t help but stop and say hello.”
“Father,” Ulysses retorts. I have to try not to smile. He really looks like an awkward boy playing at being a grown-up in front of his dad. “What are you doing in town today?”
“Budget meetings with the police chief,” Montero answers. “It ran a touch long. I was just on my way up to the house for dinner, if you’d like to ride back with me. You know how much your mother fusses when you don’t get a proper meal.” Montero arches his brows, shifting his attention back to me. “Would you care to join us, Miss Clarendon? I feel so dreadful, thinking of you dining all alone in that little house.”
“Oh—no, I’ll be fine.” I shake my head quickly.
Holy hell, what is happening?
I’m so not cut out for eating with small-town royalty.
“I’m so tired I’d probably embarrass myself by passing out on my plate in front of you. But thanks for the offer!”
What else can I say?
“Another time then,” Montero says. “You are always welcome in our home.”
I’m spinning.
This weird request, however kind, just doesn’t compute in my brain.
I’m the newly hired schoolteacher. These people don’t even have young kids.
Why is he talking to me like I’m some long-lost family friend, or even his next pet project?
That’s probably all it is, though.
Rich people posturing or looking to feel good about themselves by slumming it with the poor city girl, treating her like Cinderella.
Ulysses saves me from saying anything by gesturing to my open car door. “She was just on her way home, Father.”
More weirdness.
I’d almost feel like he’s dismissing me—trying to get rid of me—if he wasn’t giving me an easy out from this awkward situation. But there’s something about how he looks at his father that makes me feel more, too.
Almost like Ulysses is guarding me.
Didn’t Nora say Montero Arrendell had a roaming eye?
I wonder if Ulysses is worried about me becoming another one of his father’s conquests.
If he’s anything like the little boys I’ve seen who know their fathers are womanizing cheaters, then he’s also trying to protect his mother’s feelings, too.
My heart aches.
Seriously, I’m not someone Lucia Arrendell ever needs to worry about.
It’s time for me to make myself scarce before the tension chokes me, anyway.
“I really do need to go,” I say hastily and smile, sliding behind the wheel of my car. “But it was nice seeing you guys. Have a good night.”
I close my car door just as Ulysses steps out of the way, backing onto the sidewalk.
There it is again—that heavy feeling of eyes everywhere, of someone watching me.
Only this time, it’s not just Ulysses and Montero standing on the curb.
It’s different. Warmer.
Just a hot prickle of awareness.
It doesn’t fully hit me until I look through my windshield at another vehicle.
Lucas’ patrol car, parked across the street.
My heart leaps up my throat.
He’s behind the wheel, his head bowed.
He’s not looking right at me, though. I just glimpse a paperback in his hands, peeking up over the steering wheel... but I get the feeling he was watching a minute ago.
There’s always a certain quiet tension to him, the way his brows draw together, overshadowing his stark, handsome face.