Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
And for some reason? That breaks the spell.
He’s just a man. Just a man who puts his pants on one leg at a time like anyone else. He may be a beautiful man, he may be a powerful man, but he’s still just a man. And does he have something to do with this little girl who just came to me for help?
And is there a reason that little girl told him not to touch her?
She said she needed me, and this little girl needs an advocate.
“May I help you?” I ask, in what I hope is a cool tone of voice. I hold my head a little aloof, even. I’m proud of myself.
“Ahh. Samantha,” he says, his enunciation of each syllable flicking my lady parts, one beat at a time. “You’re the irresponsible owner of this shop who decided it was a good idea to paint the awning that hideous shade of pink.”
He did not just say that!
Ass!
“Fuchsia,” I correct. “And actually, no, that was Madison.” I give him one of those smiles-that-I-hope-doesn’t-reach-my-eyes and extend my hand. “And you are...?”
I don’t want him to know I know exactly who he is, and I may have even Googled his net worth over breakfast.
He eyes my hand coolly, then finally extends his, and yes, ohmygod, his hand is every bit as warm and masculine and virile as his —
“Miguel Santiago,” he says in that voice like chocolate fondue.
His voice. Yes, his voice.
Get your mind out of the gutter.
Madison recovers from the foot stomp and so intrudes on our little moment.
“I’m Madison. The fuchsia one. I mean, I’m the one that painted the awning hideous,” she says in a breathy voice, like she’s confessing a sin she hopes he’ll punish her for.
He shakes her hand, gives her a polite nod, then turns the full force of his gaze back to me.
“You’ve violated zoning and community seller regulations,” he says. “You’ll be hearing about that later.” He jerks his head at Antonia. “And you. Come with me.” He turns and starts to go.
“No.” Antonia crosses her arms over her chest, and we all give a collective gasp.
No one tells Miguel Santiago no. Supreme Court Justices don’t tell Miguel Santiago no. And this little pipsqueak just takes him on.
He’s halfway to the door, as if it never crossed his mind that she wouldn’t follow him, when he freezes mid-step.
He turns back to face her.
“Excuse me?”
Do what he says! I want to scream at her, while at the same time, I give a silent little fist pump. You go girl!
“I’m not leaving until I talk to Sam,” Antonia says. Balls of steel, I tell ya. “We have business to conduct.”
Oh I love her.
He turns his narrowed, furious gaze back to me as if I just paid her to say that, and glances at his watch. It’s a very nice watch, I note. Probably a very expensive, very nice watch. I didn’t know manly watches were hot until today.
He scowls. “Why?”
“That’s private.”
He looks back to me, and I realize I need the small audience who’s watching this all unfold to evaporate, and now. I look helplessly to my friends as he stalks back to me, and thank the heavens, those girls read my mind. Allie and Madison spring into action. Allie gathers her yoga troops and takes them out to the studio.
“Free samples!” Madison says, pouring smoothies into little plastic sample cups. “Taste our It Takes Two to Mango flavor on the house!”
I turn to the little girl. “Why don’t you come to my office, Antonia,” I say, as professionally as I can.
Santiago frowns and snags a smoothie sample. Somehow, it feels like a minor win.
“We’ll be right back.”
“I’ll join you,” he says. Then he looks at Antonia and scowls. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”
She nods. “It’s fine.”
Great. Problem is, I don’t actually have an office. I have two folding chairs in the kitchen next to a little card table, and a notepad. It’s part of the whole front.
Furthermore, Prince is in his little crate taking a doggy nap. He’s not technically allowed back there, so that could pose a problem.
I gesture for Santiago to join us. He stands to the side, hands in pockets, as Antonia sits across from me. Her little feet dangle, she’s so little. We keep it clean in here, but there’s no air, and it’s like being stuffed into an oven. I fan myself, and it has nothing to do with Santiago raising the temperature in here.
Nothing.
“Antonia, what can I help you with?” I ask, lifting my pen and preparing my notepad, as Prince chooses that moment to make little doggie yip sounds.
Uh oh. I ignore it. Maybe he’ll go back to sleep.
“I’m here because I need to find my mother.”
Right. She said that. Oh, God. My heart twangs.
She says it so calmly, like she’s ordering from our smoothie bar and not talking about a hunt for the person who’s probably the most important human in her entire world.