Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
I just don’t know who’s ahead in the game.
TWENTY-TWO
Phoebe
Living at Stonehaven has its benefits: made-to-order meals by a private chef, free rent, a million-dollar view, and Rocky.
He’s been slipping into my room to spend the nights with me. A perk we didn’t have when we were split between the loft and the boathouse. There are even days I try to convince myself that summering at the mansion in the sea is worth living three doors down from the ever-deplorable Trent Waterford.
But this morning is not one of those days.
I squint into the rising sun, watching The Ithaka float away toward the mainland. “This is getting ridiculous,” I growl out and toss my purse into the dinghy.
This is the fifth morning in a row that Trent has beat us to the boat. We all agreed the yacht would leave the dock at seven a.m., and he’s consistently woken up earlier each and every day this week just to convince the crew to give him a private charter to the mainland. Leaving us all to cram into the small dinghy, which is about as fun to ride in as one of those old water coasters.
My ass goes numb. My hair gets knotted to hell. And I will undoubtedly have a see-through white blouse by the end thanks to the rough waters.
Damian Bennet grimaces, equally annoyed, and his nose curls up at the dinghy as Hailey squishes in beside me. He removes his Persol sunglasses and nods back to the mansion. “I’m going to wait for The Ithaka to return.”
“Ditto.” His little brother, Sandon, follows him up the dock toward a set of winding stairs cut through the rock. They lead to the stately front door, complete with a bronze wolf knocker. Sometimes I remind myself that this is one of the most famous properties in Connecticut and not just a fun little vacation at a B&B.
“Anyone else coming?” Jake asks, standing up in the dinghy. He balances effortlessly, and I have to wonder how many sailing lessons he took as a kid.
Nova scowls, his face already turning a shade of green. “I puked last time. So it’s a pass.”
Oliver unpeels a piece of gum. “I thought you had that fancy-pants art dealer coming into the museum this morning.”
Nova and Oliver have been keeping up their fake personas as museum curator and small-town therapist.
My oldest brother groans, running two hands atop his head. “I’ll get Angela to fill in.”
Last week I asked if Angela was cute, and laser beams might as well have zapped out of Nova’s eyes. She’s apparently eighteen and an intern at the museum. Oops.
Oliver slips the gum into his mouth and checks his phone. “I can’t miss my eight o’clock appointment.”
Jake appraises the sky. “We need to beat the storm.” He makes a quick gesture. “Hurry.” Clouds darken ominously above us, and Oliver hops on board while blowing a bubble and popping it with his tongue. He’s as steady as can be, and I’m not shocked he squishes on the other side of Hailey.
Her nose is buried in a paperback.
Oliver slides on sunglasses, then slips a casual arm down Hailey’s shoulders, his hand hanging across her chest. She never pries her eyes off the pages, not even as she reaches up and touches his knuckles, his wrist, as if to ensure he’s really there.
Their fingers lightly brush and hook.
Jake keeps looking away, then back at them. Away, then back. Each time, his muscles flex more.
I think it’s safe to say my best friend is in a full-blown love triangle. The real kind. Not like the manufactured one between Rocky, me, and Jake. Emphasized by her admission they’ve been sleeping in the same bed this summer.
“We just sleep,” she explained. “I mean, they do things to help me sleep.” I’d known one of them was rocking her world to bed when she admitted it to her doctor. I did not know it was plural.
“They?” I almost choked on my pancake that morning. The two of us were eating breakfast alone in the dining room before our shift at the club. I swigged some cranberry juice. “Like together? At the same time?” I hesitated to ask further, because one of the guys is my brother. But curiosity can really kill since it did not stop me.
“No.” She stirred brown sugar into her oatmeal. “But maybe…I don’t know. Sometimes one will watch me get off, but I think they’re watching each other, too.”
“Like a stare-down?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
“Hailey motherfucking Tinrock.” I practically sang her name. I stood up and applauded. “Two guys are getting off fighting over you. You know what this means?”
She smiled a little. “I’m a mess. To never be replicated.”
“You have swiped your V-card.”
“Swiped that a long time ago, Phebs.” I still can’t believe Oliver was the one who did the swiping.