Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
That made me grin. Of course her main concern would be her idol. “First of all, Michelle could beat the crap out of Daniel if she wanted to.”
“That’s true.”
“And no, they’re not going to be there. My sister actually did invite them, but they declined. Apparently her high society hubby-to-be isn’t quite that well-connected.”
“Okay, but a lot of other VIPs will be there. What if he wants to get close to one of them?”
“To do what?”
“How should I know?”
I shifted the phone and thanked the hotel’s doorman as he held the door for me. Then I asked Ginny, “What if he just wanted to hook up with me, and that ‘two weeks’ comment was completely arbitrary?”
“It’s possible, but something feels off. I’m going to do some digging and see what I can find out about this guy. How’s his last name spelled, with an O-N or an E-N?”
“O-N, I guess. I think that’s the Swedish spelling, but I’m not sure.”
“Which goes to show you really don’t know anything about this guy. Please be careful, Mal.”
“I always am. I’m about to get on the elevator, so I need to go.”
“Check in with me this afternoon,” she said, “and do something for me. Bring up the wedding and watch closely to see how he reacts.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Fine, but do what I said and report back.”
“Goodbye, Ginny. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I ended the call and stuck the phone in my pocket as I stepped onto the elevator. By the time I reached the suite, she’d already sent me a text: Do you know how many Daniel Larsons there are in the world? He might as well have told you his name is John Doe.
So, she’d been serious about doing some digging, which was fine. Maybe it would help put her at ease.
I left my phone on the table in the foyer and went to check on my guest. Daniel was right where I’d left him—sprawled out on the bed and snoring softly.
Rather than wake him, I half-closed the door. Then I went into the living room and unpacked the shopping bag. After I made a tidy stack on the coffee table with the pen and notebooks, I glanced at the receipt. Okay, yes, that had been an exorbitant amount to spend on a pen, but it’d be worth it if it made him happy. I hid the receipt in a drawer and made sure all the price tags were removed from my purchases, because it seemed tacky to flaunt how much I’d spent. After that, I picked up the hotel phone and ordered breakfast for two from room service.
The knock on the door sometime later finally woke Daniel. He joined me in the living room right after the server left. The big, fluffy duvet was completely wrapped around him like a cocoon, and he mumbled, “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.” He grunted and curled up at one end of the couch. All I could see was one squinty eye. “I guess you’re not a morning person.”
“No. Mornings bad.”
I chuckled at that. “Well, good news, Young Frankenstein. We have coffee.”
He reached out through a gap in the blanket, and I filled a cup and stuck it in his hand. The cup disappeared into the cocoon, and a moment later he muttered, “Fuck, that’s good.”
It was a few more minutes before he finally stuck his head out of the blanket. His nose was wrinkled, as if he found this whole morning business completely distasteful, and his hair was a spiky mess. I decided to keep my observation that he looked like an angry kitten to myself. Instead, I told him, “If you’re hungry, I got us some breakfast.”
He slid out of his cocoon and sat on the floor, and I raised a cloche to reveal a stack of pancakes. Because nothing he did was ever predictable, he picked up one of them with both hands and started nibbling the edge. I pointed to a carafe on the tray. “There’s syrup if you want it.”
All he said to that was, “Not a fan,” and went on eating the pancake like a squirrel. A few moments later, he frowned and asked, “Why aren’t you eating?”
“What you’re doing is so entertaining that I forgot about my breakfast.”
I moved to the other side of the coffee table and sat cross-legged on the area rug. Then I pulled my serving dish closer and removed the lid, which prompted Daniel to whisper, “My god, why?”
“Oatmeal is good for you.”
When I dumped a packet of raisins onto it, he muttered, “Now it’s a crime scene.”
“I’m glad I guessed correctly and got you pancakes.”
As I added some milk, he guessed, “Soy?”
“Oat, actually.”
“That sounds like some kind of freaky experiment, recombining the oats with their…wait, how the hell do they get milk from an oat?”