Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Instead of crying, I lean in, tilt my chin, and meet his mouth with mine.
He kisses me so sweetly, lending me the courage I need.
Soon, we pull up in front of LA’s most exclusive country club, and he leads me through a throng of well-dressed people with a higher combined net worth than entire countries.
My stomach lurches as we go up the medieval-looking stairs to this castle of a clubhouse.
I so don’t belong here.
As soon as we make it up to the main floor, an older couple rushes Brock.
The man’s lime-green suit with a purple vest and tie gives him away immediately.
Ross Winthrope’s eccentric fashion tastes are almost as legendary as his fortune.
For an older man, he’s still insanely tall, and he looks down and surveys me. Then his eyes flick to Brock, and he chuckles.
“A sweet young thing you’ve got on your arm.” He nudges his grandson with his elbow. “Don’t be shy, boy.”
“This is Miss Piper Renee,” Brock says proudly.
The elder Mr. Winthrope takes my hand and kisses it. “Pleasure. How’s my grandson behaving?”
“Like a total sweetheart—today,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.
“That doesn’t sound like him,” Ross says.
“Some people like me, Gramps. Hard to believe, I know,” Brock says.
“Only because you pay them so well.”
I stiffen at his words.
Uh-oh.
Do they know I work for him? And what would they think if they do, and they also know we’re—
I never finish that thought.
Brock senses my nerves, pulls me closer, and gives me a look that says, are you okay?
I nod.
Then it’s Mrs. Emily Winthrope’s turn. She swats her husband’s arm. “Oh, quit harassing our Broccoli in front of his date.”
“Broccoli?” I grin and meet Brock’s eyes.
He sighs like a tortured man.
She grabs my hand and closes it between both of hers.
“How long have you known Brock? Tell me everything.” But before I can answer, she drops my hand and pats Brock’s cheek. “Oh, it’s so nice to finally see you out with a woman.”
“Uh, thanks, Grandma,” he mutters.
“Are you serious about her?” She smiles and waves a hand. “You must be. She shares one of my dearest passions.”
Mrs. Winthrope nods at me, and at first I don’t follow. But I notice her eyes sweeping to my neck, and I reach up and pull out the tiny silver sparrow necklace I’ve worn since I was sixteen.
“It’s a cheap, sentimental thing, ma’am. But I love jewelry too.”
The old lady smiles and laughs, the lines deepening under her eyes as she looks at Brock. “Do you want to tell her or should I?”
Brock exhales sharply. “Grandma’s a bird freak just like you, Piper.”
“Oh!” I’m floored. “Seen any good ones lately?”
“Kindly don’t get her started,” Ross groans, giving Brock a miserable look.
But Mrs. Winthrope ignores him and launches into this awesome story about the raptor center she funded in the southwest to help rehabilitate the California Condor. By the end of it, I’m grinning from ear to ear.
I think the two men muttering to themselves are wishing the condors went extinct by the time we’re through and finally look at them again.
“Don’t muck this up, dear,” she whispers in Brock’s ear. “If you’re smart, soon I won’t be the only crazy bird lady in the family. When are you proposing?”
“Grandma—”
“Don’t be coy with me. You never would have brought her to meet us if you weren’t—”
“She has ears, you know,” he bites off harshly.
I don’t know how I hold it together.
I’m dying, trying not to laugh.
Fortunately, Ross takes his wife’s arm and gestures. “Is that the Hargroves over there, love? We really should go say hello and hear about that new rhino sanctuary they’ve started.”
“Hear about how many bragging rights their donations buy, you mean? Bah.” Mrs. Winthrope flashes her teeth in an awkward smile. “Please excuse us. If you find me later, I’ll tell you all about the time Ross and I were stranded with a mob of emus in Queensland.”
With her husband pulling on her arm, they disappear to the other side of the room. Halfway to the other couple, Ross Winthrope turns back and winks at Brock.
I giggle behind my hand and say, “Wow. That was close. You got lucky.”
“Sorry about that,” Brock says. “Give her half a chance, and she’ll talk until she’s sprouting a beak.”
“Why? It went better than expected, Broccoli.”
His eyes snap to me, twin blue flames.
“Sunshine, if you ever call me that shit again, I will take you over my knee,” he says.
Oh, he’s mad.
And why does that sound so enticing?
A glamorous-looking couple approaches us then and slaps Brock on the shoulder. “Small world, Winthrope. Did your grandparents drag you out here?”
“Anything for conservation.” He waves a hand in front of me. “This is Piper Renee. Piper, this is Lincoln and Dakota Burns from Haughty But Nice.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, gushing a few words about how much I adore their clothes.