Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Kara makes a little noise—amused, not angry—and I glance away, uncertain what they are to each other. Sister? Friend? Something… more? The stiffness between them feels practiced, like a dance neither of them likes.
After we eat, Kara drives me to her apartment, with the men promising to check on us later. The building smells of flowers and polished wood, and the elevator emits a soft sigh at every floor. I watch our reflections stack in the mirrored doors—Kara composed, me pink-cheeked and damp-haired, eyes too bright.
“Are you Everett’s sister?” I ask as we rise, because I have to know which way to point my hope.
“No.” Kara’s mouth twists. “We’re… romantic partners. Sort of.”
An ache opens behind my ribs.
“Our parents want us to merge companies. Arranged marriage, basically,” she continues.
I frown. “So you don’t work for your parents’ company?”
“My working at Tidal Solutions is supposed to be part of the whole ‘merger’ process,” Kara says wryly, making commas with her fingers. “It was meant to be a temporary position to see how Everett and I worked together, but three years later…” She trails off with a shrug. “Neither of us wants to marry the other. We’re friends, but not… that. I love him like a brother, but I’m not in love with him. And he’s definitely not in love with me.”
Hope does a clumsy cartwheel in my stomach. “Oh.”
“Also,” she adds with a shudder, unlocking her door, “Everett loves the outdoors and I hate it. Dirt. Bugs. Worms. Give me a boardroom over a boat any day.”
Inside is all pale wood and soft gray. The spare bedroom smells like clean linen and unexpected possibilities. Kara shows me a bathroom that’s a temple to water. I twist the silver knobs until the shower warms, and steam curls around me like a curious cat. The soap smells like rain-washed flowers, and the shampoo like the first sweet day of spring.
Water slides over my scalp and down my back in hot, shivery rivers. I tip my face into the spray and imagine a different warmth, broader hands, a mouth at the nape of my neck. My nipples tighten, traitorous and eager. I should stop picturing Everett in my shower. But I don’t.
I emerge pink and human-scented and slip into the clothes she’s left—soft green pants and a long, slouchy top that hugs heat to my skin. They feel wonderful.
As I leave my room to find Kara, a knock sounds at the door, and Everett and Ricky step in. Everett has shaved. The line of his jaw could cut ribbon. His smile is bright enough to make the room tilt a little. His eyes skim my hair, throat, the curve where the fabric clings, then return to my face as if he’s trying to be gallant and barely succeeding. Heat prickles my cheeks. My body remembers rain, remembers his mouth.
“Hi,” he says, and somehow it sounds like I’m glad you’re okay and don’t you dare vanish again.
I manage a “Hi” that doesn’t betray the way my pulse is behaving. He’s Kara’s, I remind myself, even as the conversation we had tries to argue with me. Even as my heart argues with me.
We settle in the living room; me curled with my new feet tucked under me because I like the way it feels to anchor somewhere. Everett's knee brushes mine as he sits beside me, and the space between our bodies feels like a living thing, aware and wanting.
Ricky and Everett debate whether I should go to the office tomorrow. Ricky cites the doctor’s orders. Everett counters with, “She shouldn’t be alone.”
“Oh,” I blurt, too eager to be elegant, “I’d love to see what you do.”
Kara’s eyes meet mine, pleased. “Then it’s settled. Come by for lunch, Ev. We’ll do a quick dinner with your parents afterward.”
“Right,” Everett says, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The motion tightens his shirt across his broad chest, hinting at the warm, supple muscles beneath. “We’ll take it slow.”
His gaze threads through mine slowly, and my breath trips. Slow sounds like a promise and a threat I want to test with every part of me.
I sink deeper into the couch, listening to the rise and fall of their voices, letting the rhythm of human plans circle me like a school of friendly fish.
I’m lost. But maybe I’m also wanted. And if the way Everett looks at me is any indication, I might be something else, too.
Found.
Chapter 6
Everett
Ariel stands at my office window like she’s just discovered glass. Twenty-six floors up, Fable Forest sprawls in tidy blocks and treetops, with Screaming Woods a dark, rippling bruise on the horizon. Down in the street, a bus exhales, a barista laughs, a gull heckles someone’s lunch. Up here, Ariel presses her palm to the pane as if she can feel the city’s pulse through it.