Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“He isn’t dead to people here, but they’re sure about to kill him,” Rhyland corrected with a smug smile. “This reminds me—Row, you do have life insurance, right?”
Row opened his mouth, no doubt to give him one final warning before he broke his nose, when the door whined open.
“What’s going on here? What’s the commotion?” Zeta stuck her head in the door, scanning the four of us. Dylan sat dutifully on her bed, looking like a birthday cake had exploded on her. I was by her side, Rhyland was standing next to us, and Row was on the other side of the room, looking fifty shades of pissed off.
“Row is two servers short, and Cal just offered to fill in. She has experience.” Dylan threw out her hands in a can-you-believe-it gesture. “Talk some sense into your son, Mamma.”
“You’d be crazy not to hire her.” Zeta tutted, palming her cheek worriedly. “No one else would work for you in this county.”
“I think you missed the R in country.” Rhyland took out a small tin box from his pocket, rolling himself a joint.
Whoa. What had Row done, and why wasn’t he in jail for it?
“In less than two months, the restaurant will be permanently closed. Cal is probably looking for long-term.” Row’s jaw ticked in annoyance.
“Two months from now, I’ll be leaving. I’m flying back to New York January first, so actually, this is perfect,” I countered.
“Of course, you are.” He scrubbed his face, muttering, “Shit.”
“What now?” I sighed. Was there anything I did that he didn’t find appalling?
“I’m flying to London the same day,” he explained.
“Why, what a coincidence!” Rhyland looked between us, amusement adorning his sculpted face. “You can share an Uber to the airport. In the meantime, you have less than eight weeks to suffer one another. Doable, right?”
“Wrong,” Row said at the same time I exclaimed, “Easy peasy!”
Seriously, what was his deal?
“What happened to your faces and hair, girls?” Zeta took us in for the first time, her grip on the doorknob loosening.
“Cupcake fight.” Dylan pretended to flex her biceps, kissing her nonexistent guns. “I won.”
Zeta’s eyes landed on my face. “I see you played dirty and aimed for the eyes.”
Dylan laced her fingers under her chin and blinked innocently. “What can I say? I fight like a girl, which means I always win.”
Something amazing happened after Dylan said that. Zeta’s features softened for the first time since I’d known her.
“You’re smiling again.” Zeta’s eyes glittered, her attention fixed on her daughter. “Look at you. You’re…you’re…happy.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mom.” Dylan wiped the smile off her face instantly, shooting me an embarrassed look. “Even if I were, it’s not because of Cal.”
“Apropos, Cal—you’re hired as a waitress at Descartes,” Rhyland announced dryly, pulling out his phone and tossing it into my hands. He tucked his joint behind his ear. “Program your number and email in, and we’ll hammer out the small print. Congrats, kiddo.”
“Yes!” I jumped up in the air, mustering some courage and offering my open palm for Rhyland to shake.
He stared at it dispassionately, not making a move. “No thanks, sweetheart. Touching you is not on my agenda. I like my limbs exactly where they are.”
Tucking my crusty cupcake hair behind my ear, I said, “I won’t let you down. I promise.”
“I won’t let you in.” Row marched toward Rhyland, fury rolling off him like vapor. “She isn’t hired.”
“I’m vetoing this one, Sir Frowns-A-Lot.” Rhyland clapped Row’s shoulder. “You need employees, and I need you off my back. Fair trade-off.”
“Row, can I speak to you alone, please?” I pretzeled my fingers together. I didn’t want this opportunity to go to waste. Plus, we’d been at each other’s throats ever since I had gotten here. If I was going to worm my way back into Dylan’s life, I needed to patch things up with him regardless of my potential employment.
“No,” he said, point-blank.
“Ambrose Rhett Casablancas, where are your manners?” Zeta shrieked.
“The trash?” Dylan guessed.
“Buried twenty feet under, next to radioactive waste?” Rhyland suggested.
“Maybe he left them in the womb before you pushed him out,” Dylan theorized, picking frosting from her split ends.
“What happened? You used to be fond of her.” Zeta wiped her forehead with her elbow, a smear of spaghetti sauce running across it. “Give the girl the time of your day.”
“Last time I gave her the time of my night, she ruined it.” He bared his teeth at me.
I turned crimson red thinking about the night he had taken my virginity. “Can’t we let bygones be bygones?” I asked hopefully.
“Stop saying bye and gone without leaving.” Row’s scowl deepened. “You’re giving me false hope here.”
“Please be reasonable.” My voice was low and steady. I was beyond qualified, and he needed the help. Couldn’t he look past his dislike for me?
“On the contrary, I’m very reasonable. I’m reasonably sure you and I are not going to get along as coworkers. Look, it’s a small town, and I will probably run into you, but by God, I’m not going to actively let you into my goddamn sphere.”