Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“I have to get going, but I’m not sure the rest of my day is going to be as much fun,” I said.
As I walked to my truck, I wondered what in hell got into me. It hadn’t surprised me that Noah wanted to step in and help someone who needed it—especially when that someone was beautiful. But me? I have a business to run, a farmhouse I’m restoring on weekends. I didn’t have time and energy to go around rescuing people or offering to locate discounted commercial ovens for them. It was not my usual vibe at all. I heaved a sigh as I looked at the time. I knew exactly what had gotten into me. She was funny as hell and didn’t back down, and I had a feeling I’d be calling in favors to help her in any way I could.
3
NOAH
“Even the air smells expensive,” I said with a smirk after the waitress took our order.
“I had to change out of my jeans. How is it ‘hanging out with my bros’ if I have get dressed up after work?” Leo said grumpily.
“It’s called, we let Ethan pick the venue,” I said, taking in the plush, saddle-leather and smoked glass aesthetic of the upscale cigar lounge.
Ethan was now ordering a martini from a cocktail menu, so detailed it might as well have resembled IKEA furniture assembly instructions. I sipped my good single malt, and Leo had a beer while he tried to eat all the sausage off the charcuterie board. I took an olive and managed to score some of the Parma ham before he got to it. Ethan spoke to some men at another booth before showing us the week’s cigar offerings.
“The Arturo Fuente, I’m telling you,” Ethan began, “you would appreciate it if you took the time.”
“I think it’s an age difference,” I told him, and he raised his eyebrows.
“I was four when you were born, not fourteen.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I think because you’re established in your career, Mr. Hot Shot, with your AMP Master Prize when you were in college,” I said. “You’re the star of the entire firm.”
“That’s flattering, but I’d say getting to spend six months in Osaka with Tadao Ando was by far the greater honor. The prize opened the door for that opportunity. He’s just on another plane as a visionary,” Ethan said, his voice going low and awed the way it did whenever he mentioned that fellowship. This Ando guy did wicked cool buildings, but my brother acted like he was a cross between Mick Jagger and the Dalai Lama. Leo and I exchanged a look. We knew what was coming. More photos of projects Ethan admired, stuff from his idea board that we’d have to appreciate and understand like it was relevant to us. He was passionate about architecture the same way Leo was passionate about that sausage on the appetizer board and I was about getting promoted to partner at work.
He whipped out his phone and flashed a photo of, not some concrete swirl of a structure, but of the exterior of Madison’s shop.
“What’s the deal here?” he asked.
“Good muffins,” Leo remarked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I go there a couple times a week. Power went out while I was there.”
“So, he called me. Because I have all the skills,” Leo piped up.
“It didn’t occur to either of you to tell me that you had decided to adopt some small business owner? We don’t take in strays, boys,” Ethan said sternly.
“We didn’t take her in. We just saw a problem and stepped in to help.”
“If you start singing about brotherhood and charity, I’ll knock your heads together. How many times do I have to tell you to quit going after the same girl?” Ethan said, exasperated.
“We’re not after the same girl,” I protested while Leo shrugged as if in admission of what Ethan was suggesting.
“We never fought over a girl,” Leo pointed out.
“That is true,” Ethan admitted. “I still can’t understand why two grown men who are so different in every other respect seem to have the exact same taste in women.”
“The best taste,” Leo said, “that’s not the flex you think it is, that you don’t go for the same kind of girls we do. It shows how ordinary you are.”
“Ordinary?” he asked dismissively. “Rebecca was a Fulbright scholar.”
“That’s exactly what any sane man is looking for,” Leo quipped. “Someone terrifyingly smarter than them.”
“I admit Rebecca was, at times, terrifying. But far from ordinary.”
“True,” I said. “You don’t usually get to meet the Wicked Queen in real life.”
“The one from Snow White?” Leo asked. “Yeah, I can see that about her.”
“Yes, it’s strange that she didn’t ever like our family,” he said wryly, “with such friendly and understanding brothers.”
“Wasn’t she gluten-free?” I ribbed.
“She said the gluten caused inflammation that could affect her thinking. Something about her language processing being sluggish if she had gluten I think,” Ethan said, sounding mystified.