Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
At business associate, Angelo gives my mom a mocking smile. He crosses the floor and puts the box on the table.
Colin stands and rounds the piano. He offers Angelo a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Angelo’s long lashes dip as he glances at Colin’s palm before gripping it in a handshake that makes Colin wince. “Is it?”
Colin frowns.
Dismissing Colin with an air of disinterest, Angelo addresses me. “I brought some things Pirate may need.”
Colin looks between my mom and me. “Pirate?”
“Um, Angelo gave me a cat.”
Colin raises a brow. He knows about my mom’s aversion to pets and her so-called allergy.
“I thought he may need a bed, toys, and a litter tray.” Angelo motions at the box. “There are all kinds of soft and dry food as well as different types of litter. That way, you can test everything to see what he prefers.”
“Wow. Thank you.” I smile at him. “That’s so thoughtful. I was going to beg my sister to drive me to the pet shop to buy all of that.”
“Colin wrote a ballade for Sabella’s birthday,” Mom says. “Would you like to hear it?”
“I heard it.” Angelo’s smile is flat. “I think all your neighbors did. I hope they have earplugs.”
A choking sound slips through Mom’s lips.
Colin simultaneously frowns and smiles as if to say, What the fuck is your problem?
“I have to be on my way. Our flight leaves in a few hours.” Angelo offers me his arm. “Will you walk me out, cara?”
Even though it was a question, he phrased it like an order.
I stand on shaky legs, place my hand on his forearm, and mumble, “Excuse me,” in Colin’s direction as Angelo walks me out.
“What about your tea?” Doris asks when we pass her in the foyer. She’s carrying a tray laid with a cup and a plated slice of cake.
“Another time,” he says, inclining his head and leading me outside.
On the front patio, he steers me to the swing bench in the corner and lowers his arm. I don’t have a choice but to remove my hand. Watching me with cunning attention, he leans a shoulder on the wall and takes a joint from his pocket.
“Is that a habit?” I ask.
“It helps to relax me when business is tense.” He scrutinizes me. “You don’t like it.”
“I hate the smell of tobacco smoke. It has a way of clinging to a person’s hair and clothes and leaving a horrible stale smell in a room.” I wrinkle my nose. “Not to mention cigarette breath.”
He breaks the joint in half and shoves the pieces back into his pocket.
Something warm spreads through my chest, knowing he did that just because I hate the smell of smoke.
Silence stretches as he continues to study me with a penetrating stare.
“What?” I say when I can’t stand it any longer.
He grips the chain around my neck, fingering the sea turtle pendant. “Did he give this to you?”
“Who, Colin? No. It was a gift from my dad.”
He drops the chain. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“No,” I exclaim, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “Colin is my neighbor and my best friend. We grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.” I push a finger on his chest. “Which is why you can’t treat him like that.”
“Like what?” he drawls.
“As if he’s your enemy. I saw how you shook his hand.”
“You want me to go easy on him?” he asks with a chuckle.
“I want you to be polite. You can’t be rude to my friends.”
He drags his gaze over me. “Is that how you dress up for all your friends?”
I cross my arms. “The dress was my mom’s idea, not that what I choose to wear is any of your business.”
He rubs a thumb over his bottom lip as he considers my answer. After a beat, his lips curve into an indulgent smile. “It seems like your mother has a different idea about your brotherly friend.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that was awkward.”
He scrutinizes me. “Does your mother always play matchmaker?”
Mom can be infuriating at times, but I’m not going to let him judge her. “She means well.”
“I’m sure Colin will agree.”
“I can assure you that Colin was just as uncomfortable as me.”
“You’ve never had the tiniest attraction to him, not even when you played house when you were young?”
I pull my back straight. “We didn’t play house. Why is this starting to sound like an interrogation? I don’t care much for being questioned like this.”
“You’ve never kissed him?” he asks, his tone incredulous.
The fact that he doubts my honesty makes me angry. “Like what I wear, that’s also none of your business.”
He raises a thick, dark eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”
The meaning behind that statement sends a shiver of anticipation through me, but I won’t let him bully me. “Is this conversation going somewhere, or are you just being rude?”