Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“I just…I thought…” I blow out a breath. “I honestly don’t know what I thought.”
“It can be whatever you wish it to be.” His smile grows bashful. “I would not presume that you love me already.”
“I would hope not,” I manage, a laugh bubbling up. “This is our first date.”
Aithar doesn’t laugh with me, but gives me another little smile.
“We are such big fans of your butter,” a woman with multiple facial piercings and a short black mohawk says to me. She shakes my hand vigorously, enthusiasm all over her face. “We want as much of it as we can possibly purchase. I think people at the cantina will love it, but if there’s not enough for them, I want enough for me.”
I manage a smile, trying to extricate my hand from hers. “Thank you. I’m not sure how much butter I can provide. My dairy is small—”
“Whatever you’ve got, I want it,” she reassures me, still pumping my hand.
Aithar smoothly steps in, putting his hand over our joined ones. “Ruthie, Michaela has not discussed supplying the cantina. We are here on a date. You can speak butter another time.”
“Oh, of course. Right. A date.” She winks exaggeratedly. “I’m Ruthie, like he said. So you’re in love with Aithar, huh?”
She says the words like she doesn’t believe something about our date. Like we’re faking.
“It’s a first date.”
“Well, he’s already in love—”
Aithar detangles our hands and steps between us, breaking eye contact. “Michaela, how about I introduce you to Dopekh instead?” He puts a hand on my arm and gently steers me away from Ruthie. Leading me across the room, he leans in close. “I apologize. I have told them all that this is not a romantic date, but they do not seem to believe me.”
I get it. Most dates are of a romantic sort, after all. Still, their reactions are a little odd. “Why wouldn’t they believe you?”
“I think they do not feel any female would be interested in me so quickly. I am not…what did Lady Ruth call it…a ball-busting alpha.”
Oh. I decide I’m not a huge fan of this Lady Ruth person. “Not everyone wants a ball-busting alpha.”
He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “I am glad, because I am not entirely sure what that is.”
I smother a giggle. I will say one thing about Aithar. He’s made me laugh and I feel as if I haven’t laughed in years. Is it wrong to want to smile when I’m around him? I pat his arm. “You’re a good guy. That’s what’s important.”
“What’s important is that you think so,” he replies, solemn. “Your perspective is the most vital.”
I say nothing to that, but my skin prickles with awareness of his nearness. This is the closest I’ve been to anyone in years, and…I don’t hate it. Aithar is comfortable to be around. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, but he’s not a wall of muscle like some of these aliens I’ve seen walking around in Port. He’s leaner, like a streamlined swimmer, and even if his features remind me of the hated guy that stole Rafaela, his bright, open eyes make me comfortable right away. I could absolutely see dating someone like him if we’d met under different circumstances…or if I was interested in dating at all.
I don’t know why Ruthie or this Lady Ruth person were so weird about it.
“Ah, here is Ruth-Ann,” Aithar mentions, and steers me across the room…to meet the same woman I had just talked to.
I blink in surprise as I stare at the features of this new woman. She looks just like Ruthie but has no piercings. Instead of a short mohawk, her hair is silky and flat, a black bob that swings above her shoulders. She’s a human of Asian descent, but I could swear that she’s the same age and height of the other woman. She holds a datapad tucked under her arm, and her clothes are plain but well-kept. I glance over my shoulder at Ruthie and note the similar names. “Is everyone here a clone?”
“What?” Aithar blurts out, shooting a look at the new woman. “I did not say that!”
I gesture at Ruthie, across the room. “But—”
“Not a clone,” the new woman says smoothly and holds her hand out. “Triplets. I’m Ruth-Ann. Ruth and Ruthie are my sisters.”
“Oh. Wow. Okay.” I shake her hand, feeling awkward. “Sorry I called you a clone.”
“It’s not an insult. A triplet is just a clone in the womb, right?” A little smile curves her mouth, her features otherwise serious, and I see a slight difference now. Ruthie was a more nervous sort, a little more high-strung. This woman is cool and calm, unruffled. “But I can see how the names would be confusing.”
“Aithar mentioned his friends were clones,” I say, glancing at him. “I assumed.”