Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“Wouldn’t this have been easier at Fizzle Headquarters?” He pops the tab of a Lightning Bolt! energy drink.
“Maybe the board doesn’t want other employees bothering the five of us,” I tell him and slurp an iced coffee. Frog brought me one this morning before we left for Penn. She’s a thoughtful bean.
I make a mental note to knit her a scarf before the weather changes. Knitting is strangely easier than I remember it being. OG Luna must’ve practiced more, and the fact that I’ve subconsciously retained this skill is a super-duper plus.
It makes me wonder if I’ve retained other skills. Will having sex come back naturally to me? Or will I be all floppy and fumbly the first time?
Morning thoughts. I want to say they’re random, but sex has been circulating my brain at all hours. Every time I look over at Donnelly and a sexy grin draws his lips upward, I bake in heat. It’s a yearning, aching need. I want to fling myself on him, and I want him to twirl me.
Like last week, at the gas station the night of the Super Bowl. I’d never been so worried about him (that I can remember). But as soon as he saw me and his grin appeared—it no longer felt like a crash-landing. All felt right in the galaxy.
And I finally learned about his mom’s last name. O’Malley. He didn’t even know she was related to the bodyguard O’Malley until that night. I understand how complicated it might’ve been to share that info—because I did have a million questions afterward. Like why he never imagined they’d be related in the first place.
He had a lot of reasons. A top one being there are tons of O’Malleys in South Philly.
I stare off in thought. If I think longer about Donnelly, twirling is the most chaste act I want him to do to me. Now I’m back to remembering how it feels when his body bears against mine. The sensation of him rocking…
“Don’t they have private board rooms with doors and locks for that reason?” Xander asks, snapping me back to the here and now. Panera Bread and Fizzle. Potential sexcapades, be gone! I focus as he adds, “So employees won’t bother board members during their business meetings?”
“Yeah, but there hasn’t been a press release about the race for a successor,” I say softly, “so I’m guessing it’d be kinda suspicious if we were all at Fizzle together.”
“Because Panera is so much less suspicious.” He takes a nervous swig of energy drink. His amber eyes dart around the café, and he’s not so interested in the loafs of wheat in the bakery. He’s zeroing in on the entrance where extra security already stands guard.
I straighten my index cards, but I can’t study when Xander seems paranoid. “Are you okay?”
He slumps, then catches his bad posture and sits up. “Fine. Just not looking forward to seeing Ben.”
“I don’t understand how you two still have so much friction.”
He tosses his binder on the table. “It’s not one big thing. It’s little things.” He leaves it at that, then eyes my index cards. “What’d you write down?”
“The names of the board members.”
Xander catches a glimpse of the five board members and our uncle in corporate attire. They’re seated at a wooden table in the middle of the empty café. He drops his voice to ask, “You know their names?”
“Yeah, those five are Krisha Kapoor, Javier Meléndez, Chett Wagner, Gunther Ackermann, and Adaline Dupont.”
It’s public knowledge, all accessible on the Fizzle website. They’re all over-forty with Chett Wagner being the oldest at sixty-seven. He was the closest to our grandfather of the board members at Panera.
I tell Xander, “I did a deep-dive and stalked them on social media. Most are only on LinkedIn, but I still got some of their interests down. Adaline doesn’t like…dark chocolate…” My voice trails off as Xander’s chest collapses. “It’s dumb though. I probably won’t need them.” I shove the index cards in my crossbody bag. “What’s in the binder?”
He blinks. “Nothing. It’s a prop.”
Oh. “You look the part,” I tell him. “Better than I do.” My chunky dark-blue sweater says Weirdo in green lettering, a Christmas gift from Tom and Eliot. They have matching ones. I’m wearing it over a silky black spaghetti strap dress that sort of resembles my nightgown.
I wonder if it looks like I rolled out of bed.
I didn’t think about that…
Xander runs two hands through his hair. “Why didn’t I figure out their names?”
“You know them now,” I say. “Here.” I give my index cards to Xander.
He exhales a long, arduous breath. “Thanks, sis.” He shares half the stack so I can keep studying. His leg is jostling under the table.
“No one would blame you if you dropped out,” I remind him.
“I can’t quit,” Xander mutters, flipping over the index card to read Javier’s hobbies. Pickleball, backgammon… “I have to be able to do this or else Dad, Mom, and everyone else will look at me like I can’t handle everything.”