Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Hunter’s sapphire eyes meet mine for a moment, and I feel my face heat up.
No way, I think. It’s not possible.
Seemingly oblivious to my shock, Mom pulls out a chair next to the stout, silver-haired man at the table.
“Frankie,” she says, turning to me, “This is George Martin, my new fiancé.”
My cheeks flame and I curse internally.
“Nice to meet you,” I mutter, deliberately looking away from Hunter and hoping the look on my face doesn’t betray my panic.
“Likewise,” the older man says, extending a hand to me. I give it a limp shake. This has to be a dream, right? Some kind of strange, sexy dream that’s slowly turning into a nightmare. And still I feel Hunter’s gaze on me, wolfish and perceptive. “This is my son, Hunter,” George continues, turning to Hunter, completely unaware of how intimately we’ve already been acquainted. “Hunter, say hello to your new sister Frankie.”
Hunter smirks and I could slap him. Literally, my fingers twitch at my side.
“It’s a pleasure,” Hunter says smoothly, giving me a long, appreciative look as he reaches across the table to shake my hand. I have to fight not to do something crazy. I hope to god nothing seems off to either of our parents. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Frankie,” Hunter continues slyly, and before he lets go of me, I feel one of his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist. It sends a delicious shiver up my spine and bite my lip to keep from gasping.
I look around and realize too late that the only seat left at the table is the one right next to Hunter. Feeling stiff and on edge, I drop into the chair, acutely aware of his presence next to me. How is he so composed?
More importantly, how am I supposed to get through this meal, let alone the rest of the summer? Hell, the rest of my life, if things between my mom and George are actually serious? I can’t believe this is my new stepbrother.
As if reading my mind, Hunter turns to me and smirks, that same crooked smile he had on his face last night. He looks like he’s about to say something when Mom says, “So, Hunter, tell us a little about yourself. Your dad says you’re an entrepreneur?”
He gives her a polite smile and nods.
“That’s right. I founded a company called Revival Footwear. Maybe you’ve-”
She cuts him off, her face lighting up.
“Oh my god, you’re kidding! I have four pairs of your shoes, I think. Frankie, can you believe this?” She turns to me, but before I can answer, she’s back to fawning over Hunter. “So successful for someone so young! How old are you, anyway?”
“Thirty,” Hunter replies. If I thought my cheeks couldn’t get any redder, I was wrong.
“You know, Frankie here is a junior at Berkeley,” Mom is saying. “Maybe you could give her some advice about transitioning to post-college life.” She looks between the two of us, me staring at my lap and Hunter, as cool and composed as ever, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Go ahead, Frankie. Say something. I have a feeling you guys are going to get along well.”
Too well, I think, and that’s when I feel Hunter’s hand on my thigh.
I start, jerking in my seat like I’ve been given an electric shock. But Hunter’s not even looking at me. He’s looking innocently at my mom, like nothing’s wrong.
“I agree completely, Ms. Fordham,” he says. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you guys.”
“Please, Hunter, call me Gertie,” Mom says, flapping a hand at him. “We’ll be family soon; no need for the formalities.”
“You’ve got it, Gertie,” Hunter says, and as he speaks, I feel his hand travel further up my leg. I turn to look at him, and he meets my eyes, his eyebrow quirking up just a little. I could swear I see the hint of a smile on his face, but it’s not enough for either of the adults at the table to notice. I can feel my face heating up again, only just having cooled down from the initial shock of seeing him here, and his blue eyes are like fire in the dim light of the restaurant.
“So, Frankie,” George says, turning to me. It’s my turn to be interrogated now, and I couldn’t be in a worse position if I tried. “What made you decide to come back to Granite Heights for the summer?”
Struggling to keep my composure, I reply.
“I guess it’s mostly because my friends from high school are here. I figure I’ll see all of my college friends when I get back in the fall, so this is a good opportunity to-”
I gasp, my eyes going wide. Hunter’s hand has slid up higher, and is resting dangerously close to the hem of my skirt. Why did I wear a skirt? More importantly, why am I not moving his hand? I can feel his eyes on me, under heavy lids, that same almost-smirk still on his face. He’s teasing me, I realize in shock.