by Jillian Dodd
“Just the same, you’d do well to find out.”
“What am I supposed to do? Flash him and see if he has a reaction? Or flat-out ask if he prefers men or women? For Pete’s sake, you act like I grew up in a cave and just ventured out into the world yesterday.”
“Fine. Take my advice as criticism.”
Gee, here comes a headache. Why am I not surprised?
Maggie has a lot of terrific qualities, and I know she’s fought for me more than once. I probably wouldn’t have a career anymore if it wasn’t for her going to bat for me against the company’s executives when sales for my sweet romances started tanking.
But, I mean, how much am I supposed to take?
“I have everything under control,” I assure her in a much more docile tone. “There’s a bonus too. His family has a summer home in the Hamptons, where he always spends the season and commutes in and out of the city for work. So, if we hit it off, I’ll have lots of atmosphere to work into the book. And I’ll take plenty of pictures at the resort and post them all over social media too,” I add as an afterthought.
“What a great idea.”
I knew she’d like that.
“Get people talking about your next release before you’ve even started it. Of course, you’ll start it soon. Right?”
“I’m packing my laptop,” I promise with a sigh.
“Don’t forget to have fun out there though. You need a little fun, and you deserve it. I’m not a complete ogre. I’m well aware of how hard you’ve been working.”
How hard she’s been working me, more like, but I’m not so frustrated with the packing process and her nitpicking to stir up another argument. No, I haven’t enjoyed the pace at which I’m now working, and I sure didn’t love it when she first told me I needed to spice things up and write “to trend.”
But it’s paying off. I can’t deny that.
“And be safe, for heaven’s sake,” she adds before we get off the phone. “I don’t want to read in the paper that a successful romance novelist was found dead on the beach or something.”
“Oh my God.”
“Well? It happens. Beautiful, young girls fall victim to wicked men all the time. There are men who prey upon tourists especially. It doesn’t matter the exclusivity of the resort, Kitty. If anything, you’re in more danger because of all the money surrounding you.”
“Why don’t I take a bath with my toaster right now and get it over with?”
“Take care and have fun!”
I swear, the woman swings from one mood to another quicker than I do. One second, I’m being murdered, and the next, I’m having fun.
There’s a knock on the door around one in the afternoon while I’m still in the process of deciding what to cull from my suitcase if I’m ever going to get the darn thing shut without the zipper breaking and all my underwear exploding out.
“It’s open!” I call out.
Yeah, I know. Not the safest thing to do, leaving my apartment unlocked. But I was expecting this.
“Where are you?” Matt’s voice rings out from just inside before he closes the door.
Phoebe’s quicker than he is. She finds me in my room and circles my legs.
“Smart girl.” I give her lots of pets and belly scratches before looking up to find my neighbor with a bag full of what’s sure to be delectable food in one hand.
“She smelled you, you realize that, right?” Always with the charm, this one.
“She’s a smart girl anyway. It’s not her fault she has you for an owner. I can’t hold that one against her.” Phoebe licks my hand. “See? She agrees with me.”
“Woof. You’re in a mood today. Are we eating lunch or what?” Only he doesn’t follow when I brush past him to grab something to drink from the kitchen. “Still trying to pack?”
“Trying to unpack, actually. I don’t have enough room in that big bag.”
“The big bag.” He snorts. “Along with the three smaller bags.”
“What? We’re going to be there for an entire week. A week full of activities, mind you. Hiking and boating and sightseeing. I’ll need daytime outfits, nighttime outfits, bathing suits, something to wear to the rehearsal dinner, something for the wedding itself …”
“I get it; I get it. It sounds like a chore, this wedding.” Matt goes to the living room and unpacks the bag, setting things on the coffee table like we usually do.
“Honestly, it sort of is, but I know Hayley would go nuts, being down there for an entire week with her family alone.”
“She doesn’t get along with them?”
“It’s not that. They’re all great people, but she’s the least impressive of all three kids.”
“I find that hard to believe!”
I sit across from him, cross-legged on the floor. Phoebe rests her chin on my knee, and I scratch her behind the ears. I’m going to be away for a week, so I need to get my pets and scratches in while I have the time.
“Kylie graduated college when she was nineteen and made COO of her firm by the time she was twenty-seven. Brandon is wicked smart and studying to be some sort of astrophysicist. She used to tease him about being a frat boy, but he’s twenty-two now and anything but. ”
“Holy hell. No wonder Hayley is so driven.”
“Can you imagine being as amazing as her and still only coming in third place? So, she gets the inevitable questions from extended family members who tease her about being the family slacker.”
“That’s the worst. Poor girl. No wonder she wants somebody there to keep her from drowning herself.”
“Or drowning well-meaning family members.”
“Though you do realize people are going to think you two are a couple because she brought you with her, right?”
“Please. Like I could land a smoke show like Hayley in my wildest dreams.”
He chuckles, nodding. “You have a point.”
“Oh, shut up. You weren’t supposed to agree with me.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Anyway,” I continue, raising my voice to speak over him, “all is not lost. Yes, this is going to be a grueling week if we’re expected to go on all these tours and hikes and whatnot, but there’s a silver lining.”
“The fact that you’ll be at a five-star resort? For free?”
“Okay. Two silver linings.”
“What’s the other one?”
“My next trope is best man, thanks to Hayley being a sneaky little sneak, so I’ll be taking inspiration for my next book while we’re there.”
He toys with his food, keeping his eyes averted, and I just know he’s about to make a remark that’s going to make me want to slug him. It never fails.
“What? What are you thinking?” I finally have to ask when I can’t take it anymore.
“I wasn’t thinking anything.” He shrugs before popping a piece of chicken into his mouth and chewing a lot harder than he needs to.
“Lie.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I mean, I know you don’t think very much, Matt, but …”
“It’s just that I’m wondering when enough is enough.”
“What do you mean?” I put my rice down on the table in case what he says next inspires me to throw the container at his head. I’m growing as a person.
“I mean, how many guys is Maggie gonna make you date just to get another book out of you? It was funny at first; don’t get me wrong.”
“No duh. You laughed yourself sick how many times?”
“But now, it’s been, what, almost a year? And you’re still going out with one dude after another, all based on what they do for a living or whatever trope you’re writing about this time. Isn’t this all getting a little repetitive?”
“Well …”
“And don’t even get me started on what it’s got to be doing to you.”
“To me?” I point to myself with my chopsticks. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
His hazel eyes aren’t sparkling when he hits me
with a stony stare. “Come on. This is me you’re talking to. Remember the time you came to my door, crying because you got dumped? Again.”
“Wow. Way to remind me of a really crappy time in my life.”
“You have to see what I mean though.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” I can stare just as hard as he can, and I do.
We’re practically a still life, except for the way Phoebe’s tail occasionally smacks against the floor.
He blinks first. “Listen, I know why you had to do this in the first place. But don’t you have enough, I don’t know, experience now to write without having to date new men all the time? This is, what, your sixth book since you started the whole dating by trope thing?”
“Yes, it is.”
“When does it all end? That’s all I’m saying. I just want to understand. I don’t like what Maggie’s making you do. I’ve never liked it.”
I have to take a deep breath. Okay, more than one deep breath. And while I’m at it, I remind myself how rude it would be to jam my chopsticks in his eye sockets.
If there’s one simple shortcut to making me absolutely apoplectic with rage, it’s telling me how I should and shouldn’t feel about something. Making it out like I’m being manipulated. Like I have no say in my life.
“Maybe I like it.” I shrug, taking pains to sound as blithe as I can. “It’s a reason for me to get out and meet people. You know how reclusive I can be. This whole arrangement has forced me out of my comfort zone.”
He only snorts before going back to his food. “Yeah, spin it that way.”
“Ew, Matt.”
“I’m calling it like I see it.”
“You’re making me sound like a slut, is what you’re doing.”
“No, I’m not saying that.”
“Because I’m not.”
“I know you aren’t. I just don’t want to see the big publisher use you to make a buck. I’m sorry for caring.”
Now, he’s all huffy, and I’m feeling rather huffy myself. We finish our lunch in silence before I shower Phoebe with a million kisses and promise to be back soon.
Though I have to wonder whether I’ll be in a big hurry to see her owner once I get back.
How am I supposed to be friends with him when I know he thinks I’m so easily used?
CHAPTER THREE
Grandmother wears an approving little smile as she leans in to pour my tea. “When are you flying out?”
“First thing in the morning. We’re going to the airport at four o’clock.”
She winces. “I remember the days before this security heightening. You could dash to the airport, present your boarding pass, and be on the plane in moments. There was none of this waiting in line, removing one’s shoes …”
“You’re showing your age.” I wink.
“Laugh all you wish. There are times when I forget you’re too young to remember what it was like before the world changed. I used to walk your grandfather to his gate when he was traveling, and I would meet him there when he returned.”
“That’s completely unthinkable now.”
“I know that. As I said, times have changed. I can recall when there wasn’t a single public place a person could visit without the certainty of reeking of smoke by the time they left.” She lifts a shoulder while raising the teacup to her mouth. “Not everything has changed for the worse, come to think of it.”
“Everybody must’ve stunk all the time.”
“Yes, dear, but when everybody stinks, nobody minds very much.”
Not exactly poetry, but I get what she’s saying. “I’ll have to write that into a book. It’s a good line.”
Instead of snickering or pretending she doesn’t think I’m funny when I know she very well does, she frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Who says anything’s wrong?”
“To start, twenty-five years of being your grandmother. I know we haven’t always been close, but I have the instinct. And there is something troubling you.”
Should I tell her? I want to tell her. In fact, I didn’t know how much I wanted to tell her until just now, when she brought it up. I can’t help it. What Matt said has been hanging over me like a shroud for hours.
“Do you think my publisher is using me?”
Her eyes widen. Gosh, they’re so much like mine, the exact shade of blue. I hope to everything holy that by the time I reach her age, my skin is as smooth and radiant as hers. The woman has taken care of herself.
“Whatever made you ask that question?”
“Remember my neighbor Matt who you met at the auction? We don’t always get along. Sort of like brothers and sisters, you know? Today, he gave me this big spiel about how my editor is using me, making me date all these different people just so I’ll make more money for the company by writing more books.”
She purses her crimson lips. I swear, I’ve never figured out the trick for making sure my lipstick doesn’t bleed onto whatever I’m drinking from, but hers never budges. The woman’s not even human.
“I see. And how did you feel when he offered this unsolicited opinion?”
She’s good and mad. She knows how to hide it, but I know better. When her voice gets all clipped and tight, there’s a storm brewing inside.
Knowing she sees how insulting he was gives me courage to keep talking. “Small. Weak. Manipulated. Like I have no say in my life. Like I’m something to be pitied.”
“That is certainly not true.”
“That’s not how he made it sound.”
“Men are a nuisance,” she snaps.
“Pardon me, but having been a man since puberty, I take offense to that.” Peter’s smile is kind when he enters the room, and he pats me on the back in passing to show there aren’t any hard feelings.
“I wasn’t referring to you, dear.” Her face practically glows.
I’m still giddy over seeing the two of them together after so many years of their relationship being strictly employer and employee. He’s loved her and taken care of her for a very long time. Now, he gets to love her openly.
And she gets to love him.
He takes a seat next to her. “I hope you don’t mind, but these big rooms tend to make a voice carry. I was on my way in when you spoke of your friend and his unwanted opinion.”
“It’s okay. I’m not trying to keep secrets.” Besides, he’s practically my grandfather. I wouldn’t begrudge him anything, seeing how happy he makes my grandmother. “I just wish I could brush aside what he said and get on with things.”
“What brought on the topic?” Grandmother asks.
“I’m going to try to meet and date the best man at the wedding.”
“Oh. I see.”
The two of them share a look.
“What? What did I say? Do you think that’s wrong?”
“No, not at all. Though I would like to know who this young man is, if it’s all the same to you.”
Peter interjects before I have time to get snappy, “What I think concerns your grandmother is the notion that no matter who he is, you must date him because he’s the best man. Not because he’s a good man. Before, you had the opportunity to choose who you would get to know within that specific category. Now?”
“I see. Let me explain.” I give them the quick-and-dirty details of just how I ended up with this latest assignment, and by the time I’m finished, Grandmother’s practically vibrating with anticipation.
“He’s in finance and his family summers in the Hamptons?” I swear, the woman is about to swoon. “Oh, dear, that’s a different story!”
“What? You wouldn’t be okay with it if he was just some nobody from nowhere?”
Peter and I exchange looks, and I can’t help but notice how crestfallen he’s become. Whoops. I’d better change the subject—and fast. It has to be difficult for him, knowing she still carries at least a little bit of class snobbishness, no matter how she tells him it doesn’t matter that he was her butler for so long.
“H
e’s supposed to be a really nice person too,” I add before she has the chance to put her foot in her mouth. “Hayley raved about him. I trust her judgment. She would never strong-arm me into dating a creep.”
“That makes me feel a great deal better.” Her hand closes over Peter’s. “In the end, character is all that matters, naturally. I would always rather see you be happy, dear. Lord knows I’ve seen more than a few unhappy marriages in my sphere; I can tell you that much. Mercenary pairings, if you know what I mean. These never last. What truly matters are the feelings between the people involved.”
He offers her a smile, though I can see what’s behind it. After all, it’s only been a few months since he left for her sake, convinced he would be nothing but bad for her. What with them being members of two different social classes and all. It’s ridiculous, and Grandmother was clearly heartbroken by it.
Since then, she’s cut out anyone in her life who was mean or callous enough to give them a hard time for being together. I, for one, am not exactly weeping over the idea of never seeing some of her so-called friends again.
Still, Peter feels the difference even if she refuses to acknowledge it. Like when she makes little mistakes, encouraging me to date somebody just because his family’s rich and he has a ritzy job.
“What do you both think about what Matt said?” It’s easier to talk about that than about this Briggs person. I’m starting to wonder if he’ll be worth the trouble I’ve already gone through, thanks to him.
Grandmother speaks up first, “I believe he needs to mind his own affairs. Frankly though, I can understand why he would be concerned. From a certain perspective, I can see how this looks problematic. I don’t enjoy the notion of my granddaughter being used for the profit of a major publishing house. That CEO of yours makes millions, even billions, of dollars, and all because of people such as you. Doing the real work, sacrificing your personal life and your emotions so he can turn a profit.”
That stings, especially since I happen to know the man she’s referring to. He was the first person I dated for this little experiment after all. Blake Marlin is a billionaire, for sure, but he’s not the fat cat she’s making him out to be.
“Blake is a good man. He works too hard, but that’s hardly a character flaw.”
