Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 103119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“I don’t get it.” His sister sounded almost dazed. “You barely leave the house and there are two women on deck.”
Julian scoffed. “That is hardly the case.” She waited, saying nothing. More sweat slid down his spine. “It’s complicated with Hallie. We aren’t seeing each other. Nothing can come of it and we’re agreed on the matter.” Damn. Saying that out loud felt far worse than his sister’s claim about him juggling two women. “It’s just that when she’s in trouble or experiencing any kind of distress, I feel somewhat . . . upset about it.”
Natalie stared.
“That is to say, I feel as if I’m going to explode if the situation isn’t fixed for her. When she isn’t smiling, the world becomes a terrible place.”
Several seconds passed. “Do you think what you’re saying is normal?”
“Forget it,” Julian growled. “Please continue to pass out the damn business cards for Corked. I’ll be back in a while.”
He strode out of the tent while unfastening his cuff links and tucking them into his pants pocket in order to roll up his sleeves. It seemed like a best practice when dealing with kids. Wouldn’t want to appear intimidating.
Brisk mountain air dried the layer of perspiration on Julian’s forehead as he walked out of the tent. He stopped short when he found Hallie hustling a dozen youngsters into a half circle on the lawn—while Owen watched, his devotion to her clearer than a freshly washed windowpane. The other man turned at his approach, cautiously sizing him up.
Julian’s sleeve-rolling movements became increasingly hasty. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Owen said back, taking a quick sip from his wineglass. “I’m Owen Stark.”
Julian held out his hand. They shook. Quite firmly. He’d never really considered his height an advantage until the other man had to crane his neck slightly. “Julian Vos.”
“Yes, I know.” The redhead’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” State your intentions toward her, motherfucker. “How do you know Hallie?”
Was it his imagination or did the bastard look a little smug? Yes, he was definitely the kind of man who would make a perfect guest of honor at a murder mystery. “We own competing gardening businesses in St. Helena.” Of course, Julian had already known the answer to that. Apparently, he just wanted to torture himself by hearing this man speak with familiarity about the woman who occupied his every thought these days. “Someday, I’m hoping to convince her to join forces.”
Now that was news. Or was it?
Owen’s emphasis on join forces made it sound as if he meant something else—not business related. As in, a personal relationship with Hallie. Marriage, even. How close were they, exactly? And truly, what business was it of Julian’s, when she appeared to want nothing to do with him anymore? He didn’t know. But the gravelly grind in his chest was so unpleasant, it took him a moment to speak. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be convinced or it would have happened by now.”
“Maybe she needs to know a man is willing to play the long game.”
I guess I’m going to kill him. Julian stepped closer. “Oh, is it a game to you?”
Hallie slid in between Julian and Owen, splitting a startled glance between them that quickly turned nonplussed. “Oh dear.” Her hip brushed Julian’s groin, and he had the most pressing urge to drag her up against him like a fucking caveman. “M-maybe we can continue this later? When we aren’t under threat of mutiny?”
“That works for me,” Owen said with a big, dumb smile, saluting with his wine.
“Absolutely,” Julian agreed, keeping his eye on the other man as he went to the front of the semicircle. And then all he could do was stand there and absorb the absolute disarray that lay at his feet. Several children were sprawled out on the grass, coming down from their sugar highs with glazed eyes and twitching limbs. Sprinkles were trapped beneath fingernails and plastered to the corners of mouths. One of them was actually licking the grass, another trying to balance a small Nike sneaker on his head. Two girls fought over an iPad with twin expressions of violence. “Well, aren’t you all just a mess? Your parents will have to hose you down before putting you in the car tonight.”
A dozen pairs of eyes snapped in his direction, some of them startled.
Including Hallie’s.
Maybe his greeting had been a little harsh—
One of the children—a girl—giggled. And then they all started to giggle.
“Our moms aren’t going to spray us with a hose,” she shouted, unnecessarily.
“Why not? You’re all disgusting.”
More laughing. One of them even pitched sideways onto the lawn. Was he doing all right at this? He’d spent exactly zero time around kids this young, but his college students definitely never laughed at him. They could barely be bothered to crack a smile. Not that he ever joked during a lecture. Time was a serious matter. Somehow he didn’t think these kids would appreciate a talk on the impact of capitalism on the value of time.