Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
He chuckles. “You’re welcome. So who are you going to take with you?”
“No one, because I can’t go. The bakery doesn’t open and close on its own.”
“It would if you made your employees work every once in a while.”
I scoff. “Dustin and Hannah mean well, they’re just . . . yeah. Going through some shit. I want to give them the time they need—”
“See? You’re still thinking about what everyone else needs. Evict your shameless employees from your head and focus on yourself.”
Looking up at the ceiling, my eyes water. I am so, so tired.
“Look, I know me sending you away for a weekend is a little weird,” Brooks continues, “but just hear me out. One night off isn’t going to cure your burnout. Case in point: you’re already back at the bakery, aren’t you? And you’re still absolutely wiped, same as you were yesterday.”
My stomach somersaults. I put a hand on it in a futile attempt to keep it in place, scoffing. “That is . . . disturbingly accurate.”
“I’ve learned the hard way to pay attention.”
Oh, wow, the butterflies are back. This guy, who has much better and more important things to do, is paying attention to me.
It feels nice. And bewildering.
“I really do owe you a lot of money,” he says, “but since you won’t take any, let me treat you to this. Please.”
It’s the last word that gets me. The way his voice goes hoarse, giving that please a pleading edge.
He sounds defeated, almost. I feel his weary desperation in my breastbone, in the way the muscles beneath it tighten at the obvious need he’s expressing.
My stomach somersaults again as images from last night flash across my thoughts.
Brooks tying my laces.
Brooks singing at the top of his lungs.
Brooks lifting his arm to wipe his eyes on his sleeve because he was laughing so hard.
He needed the break as much as I did. The dopamine hit during a dark time.
An idea takes terrifying, thrilling shape. I blurt the words before I can think better of them. “I’ll go only if you come with me.”
Silence.
Awful, ringing silence.
Oh God I went too far, I’m such an idiot, why can’t I be cool just once?!
“Look, I know me asking you to come is a little weird,” I manage. “But just hear me out.”
“Are you using my own words against me?”
“I’m definitely using your own words against you if it makes you say yes. I can tell you need more than one night off. And you’re just as obsessed with The Mountain Murders as I am, so you’ll love going to the symposium too.” More silence. “C’mon. It’ll be killer.”
“Ha.”
“A total crime not to go.”
“Greer.”
“It’s a knife to the chest, having to beg you like this.”
He groans. “I’m terrible, but you’re the worst.”
“I won’t stop until you say yes.”
“Greer, I’m not—ugh!” I imagine him spearing a hand through his hair. “I know you have other friends who’d love to go. You have a roommate. Go with her. I’m telling you, I’m awful fucking company right now.”
“Hearing you say that tears my heart out, because you were the best company last night.”
He sighs. “You’re really not going to stop with the murder puns, are you?”
“I’ll die first. Or I’ll bring Fratboy Slim with me instead.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“You’re putting a gun to my head . . .”
He laughs, the sound deep and real, and pleasure unfurls in my center. I’m suddenly desperate for this to work out. Yeah, I’ll have to read Hannah and Dustin the riot act in an attempt to get them to actually show up when they’re scheduled to work.
But if Brooks is seriously considering this—going to the mountains with me—I can get serious with my employees.
I am their boss, after all. They’ve gotten tons of time off lately.
Now I need to take a mental health day. Or three. Well, technically it’d be two. Because the bank is closed on Memorial Day, Drury Lane will be too. So I’d only need Saturday and Sunday covered.
My insides flutter when I think about how fun going away with Brooks will be. A whole weekend spent eating and drinking and reading, and hearing some hugely talented people talk about their murder-y podcasts as a bonus, sounds so nice I might cry.
It’s probably reckless of me to trust Hannah and Dustin with the bakery. It’s even more reckless to spend that time with Brooks Huntley after how much fun we had together yesterday. What if I legitimately fall in love with him?
An unrequited crush is one thing. But unrequited love? I’m not sure I could deal with that on top of everything else.
“Fine. Fine,” he grumbles. “Lucky for you, there’s another room available. Let me just enter my card info again . . . there. Booked.”
I rise to my feet, too excited and nervous to sit. Chewing on my thumbnail, I reply, “You’re really coming.”