When Gracie Met the Grump Read Online Mariana Zapata

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
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He had to be kidding me.

“Then there’s Alana—”

“The Primordial?” I asked in a squeaky voice that got me another side-look.

“Yes. She’s everything she seems to be but better.”

Wow, those were big words from someone I didn’t think handed compliments out easily.

“Odysseus, Odi, is the fourth one of us. He’s a stuffy shit sometimes, but he’s a good guy.” He made a thoughtful sound in his throat. “After that is Robert, or who you all call The Centurion. He’s a kiss-ass, but he’s everything he seems to be. Then there’s Leon. He owns a farm an hour away. He’s good. He doesn’t like people much though.”

Said Old Grumpy Pants. I almost snorted.

“He might be here if our mom pressured him into it,” Alex kept going.

“Then you, since you’re the baby,” I told him with a little cackle. “It explains so much.”

“I was until Selene. She was the surprise no one saw coming.”

“She’s your sister?” I squawked.

He gave me a crazy look. “What did you think she was?”

“I don’t know. A cousin or something.”

“No, she’s my baby sister.”

I hadn’t seen that coming either, but now that I thought about it, I guess she did look like The Centurion. I was going to have to ponder that one. “At first, I thought you and Leon were twins. You look a lot alike.”

“He’s a year older than me.”

“Are you the closest to him?”

He thought about it for a second and tipped his head.

“So Achilles, Athena, and Odysseus all work for the same business?”

“Yeah. Everyone that works on that floor is family.”

What was the family business? Was it the Akita Corporation? I wanted to ask and hoped he would say, but he didn’t. Fine. Maybe I’d overhear something tonight. “Is there anything to worry about with them?” I patted the little knife I’d snuck into my underwear. I hoped it didn’t stab me in the thigh.

“No.” Alex trailed off, obviously noticing what I thought I was hiding from the way he sighed. “Still?” he muttered, almost sounding disappointed.

“I’m not going to stab you with it,” I told him. “It makes me feel better, all right?”

He grumbled. Then he sighed, and a moment later he said, “There’s something for you in the glove compartment.”

I looked at him before remembering why I wasn’t supposed to focus on him for too long and focused back out the windshield. “What?”

“Do I have to repeat the entire thing or…?”

I rolled my eyes before stopping and wondering if that might mess up the eyeshadow that it had taken me three tries to get decent. “Sometimes I think I do miss you being pissed off and just grunting,” I muttered. “But please, repeat the whole thing. I don’t think I heard you correctly. There’s something in the glove compartment?”

The man I wasn’t supposed to be looking at, who was dressed in a suit that looked like it had been made specifically for him, sighed. “Something for you.”

For me? “Really?”

“That’s what I said. You bought me that cookie; we’re even now.”

“Just so we’re on the same page, a gift isn’t a gift if you expect something in return.”

Alex didn’t say a word.

“And again, just to be on the same page, I wasn’t expecting anything. I got you the cookie because you’d said that one night that you wanted a cookie when I said I wanted Cheetos. You got me the Cheetos already.”

“Did you argue with your grandparents as much as you argue with me?”

“Hell no. I’d go into my room and talk into my pillow so they couldn’t hear me. My grandma was old, but her stink eye was just as good as yours, and she was scarier than you.” I peeked at him again for a split second. “And you’re the one who likes bickering. I just like giving you a hard time because I think you enjoy it.”

Got him.

“Open the damn glove compartment, Gracie.”

Leaning forward, I opened it almost timidly. Inside, there was a slip of paper that was his insurance card—the name on it said ALEXANDER SHŌTA AKITA—and a small, brown, rectangular box.

Why I wanted to ask if that was his real name explained everything that was wrong with my life.

I mouthed it out and shot another quick look at his profile.

I could see it. It was classy, just like him. Most of the time.

Putting the card back, I took the box out, slid another glance toward Alex who was still focused on driving down the longest brick driveway in the world, and I took the top off.

There was a multi-tool inside. A Swiss Army knife on steroids.

“For me?”

He slid me a quick glance. “No, it’s for the other demon that insists on sleeping in my bed.”

Now he was calling me a demon, and I was about it. “That was you who went into the room when I was asleep and got into my bed.”



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