Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I hesitate, grateful for his offer and wishing I didn’t have to turn him down. “My brother will be helping me … I don’t have that many things, actually. And it’s a small place.”
Hutch looks at me for an extra beat before saying, “Okay. If you change your mind or decide you need more help, just let us know.”
Zipper, who’d been his usual quiet self during this interlude, says, “Your brother doesn’t know we exist, does he, outside of our coffee consumption?”
I feel put on the spot, like his question is an accusation. Is it possible I’ve hurt them by keeping them a secret? “No,” I say. “I just … figured it was best not to say anything.”
“We’re looking forward to visiting you at your new place,” Hutch says, still hugging me close, ignoring Zipper’s question.
“Me too,” I start to say, just as there’s a knock on their front door that makes me jump. Even though I’m dressed, I still feel like I’ve been caught doing something forbidden. “A client?” I whisper as I slide off of Hutch’s lap.
Zipper, who’s closest to having a view of the front of the store, steps out of the stall to take a look. “It’s Mrs. Marcos. I’ll get it.” He looks back at me, scanning my body, presumably checking that I’m decent, before he heads up to answer the door.
Just as I’m remembering who Mrs. Marcos is, and that she owns a business next door, I remember that I came here on business. I was here to make a delivery, and I got very, very distracted. I have no idea how long I’ve been here, but I know a quickie isn’t that quick when it’s times four. “I need to go!”
“It’s okay,” Hutch says. “Mrs. Marcos probably just needs help with her mailbox or lifting something. She won’t come in.”
“No, I need to get back to the coffee shop! I’m supposed to be working.”
“Oh, shit!” Apparently Hutch forgot, too. “I’m sorry. You won’t get in trouble will you? You shouldn’t when it’s a family business.” He sounds ready to come to my defense for a battle he’s imagining in his head.
“It’s okay,” I say as I look around for my purse. “I’ll tell them there was a lot of traffic.” It’s not an excuse I’d usually be able to get away with on the island, but summer brings a lot of vacationers, so it’s somewhat plausible.
Mace pulls me in for a quick kiss, then Christian, and Hutch walks me to the front, where there’s no sight of Zipper or Mrs. Marcos. He opens the door for me, and escorts me to my car. “Drive safely,” he says, wrapping me in his arms again and giving me a series of small kisses, first on my lips, then a final one on my forehead. “I’ll text you later.”
“Later,” I repeat softly. “Bye.” And then I rush out of the lot, preparing excuses for my brother as I go.
31
ZIPPER
Hutch is standing on the sidewalk watching Rose drive away when I return from the flooring store, where Mrs. Marcos had a jammed drawer. Her husband is sick and stayed home today, so she didn’t have anyone there to help her.
“Snap out of it,” I tell Hutch when he doesn’t even hear me approach.
His head jerks in my direction, but I’m already on my way back inside our shop. “What’re you talking about?” he asks, following me in.
I turn and give him a long look, wondering if this is the right time to bring this up. I decide there won’t be a right time, so I may as well just get it out there. “I don’t want to have to say this, but this needs to end.”
Hutch frowns, his eyes narrowed at me. “What needs to end?”
Mace and Christian apparently pick up on his confrontational tone, because they come up to see what’s going on. Good. It’s best they all hear this.
“Things are getting too serious with Rose,” I say, “and you were standing out there looking like a pitiful puppy whose owner left on vacation.” I notice his hands curl into fists, but I keep going. “The girl’s got you wrapped around her finger tight as a boa constrictor.”
He works his jaw before firing back. “Don’t stand there and act like you’re not into her, too. More than that, you care for her.”
“I do care for her,” I say, “and I’ll admit she’s incredibly hard to resist, but I’ve been keeping perspective on the situation, and you haven’t.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hutch snarls.
“Face the facts. We’re just her dirty secret. She hasn’t told anyone she’s seeing us, and she doesn’t intend for anything to come of this, but you’re carrying on like you want to marry her—offering to help her move, offering her money for her apartment. You’ve got it bad, and nothing good’s going to come of it.”