“Listen, I know this is a weird offer, but if one of my sisters was in your position, I hope someone would offer them a place where they can stay. Would you like to come to my apartment?”
“Ha!” I stare at my phone that’s almost out of battery. “Is this the part where the gullible foreigner says yes, and you lock me in some weird warehouse?”
He laughs. “Then your epitaph will read, ‘Olivia Evelyn. Died by the hands of the airport killer.’”
“You forgot to add, ‘Loving daughter. Wannabe astronaut. She died a virgin by the hands of’”—I look at him—“‘The Hottie Killer.’ After they apprehend you, the headlines will read something like: He lured his victims with acts of kindness. They’ll catch you when you try to kill your fourteenth victim.”
“Why is that?” He crosses his arms, and one hand goes to his chin. He scratches it and says, “I’m smart enough to know how to lure you, how to dispose of the bodies, and look like a good guy. Where did I go wrong?”
“Well, for one, fourteen is my lucky number,” I inform him. “By then, the FBI will realize that witty, five foot four young females with reddish-brown hair are disappearing in the city of New York.”
I point at the CCTV camera. “There’s a video of the first girl who disappeared around Christmas time. They’ll recognize your face. Boom, I help solve the crime from beyond the grave.”
He is hugging himself and laughing. “Am I able to escape? Do they kill me? I need to know what happens to me.”
“You get a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Dad will fight to have you pay for all your crimes. He’ll make sure that your jail cell has posters of my face, so you’re reminded of why you ended up in jail. That’s when my family will finally learn what happened to me. They’ll realize that by not paying for a fancy hotel room, I was left in the hands of some psychotic man.”
“Psychopath,” he corrects me.
“Well, you would know.”
“You do know there are too many holes in that theory?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Probably. If you don’t like it, you can make up your own story.”
He extends his hand. His head angles slightly so he can see me better. He’s almost a foot taller than me. A frisson of energy runs through me. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his captivating eyes. “Eros Brassard. It’s nice to meet you, Olivia Evelyn.”
That voice is so low and sexy. It makes every cell in my body vibrate. Something inside me knots my insides in different directions. My legs wobble. The way he says my name—his touch. I don’t understand what exactly is holding me in place, unable to speak or snatch my hand back.
It takes me a couple of seconds to remind myself that I’m not like other girls. I don’t gush around a hot guy. My life is already too complicated to add guys to it. Crushes are a major complication. Pulling my hand away from him, I grab my backpack, my carry-on bag, and I run to the nearest restroom.
Continue Reading Love Like Her
Something Like Love
Burke
Don’t you hate when everyone is quiet and you’re the one who breaks the silence.
It’s the middle of the ceremony when my phone buzzes. Every person in the area glares at me. I give them an apologetical smile. I check who texted and surprise, surprise, it’s my brothers.
Fletch: You skipped the game to buy another vineyard?
Myles: Brother of the year.
Burke: It was a golf tournament. I’m sure no one missed me.
Fletch: In case you’re wondering, we won.
Myles: No thanks to you. Dad is pretty disappointed.
I roll my eyes. Dad is always disappointed by something we do or don’t do. When I check the header, I see it’s a group chat. Several texts follow from my other brothers
Kingston: You could’ve at least come for a couple of hours.
Teddy: You left me with the jocks, thank you, bro.
Zach: Seriously, Burke, you skipped a charity? Plus, you missed watching Matilda’s first game.
I smile as I read the last text. Zach adores his stepdaughter as if she was his. Actually, we all love her and her mom.
Burke: I’m sure everyone has footage of Matilda.
Teddy (best sister ever): We do. Just a reminder, you’re not a winemaker.
Fletch: We’ll be at King and Myles’ place celebrating.
I knew my siblings would give me shit about skipping the charity tournament, but it’s not like they needed me to be there. I paid the fees, my company sponsored the golfcarts, and I donated too. What else do they need from me?
This is my only chance to visit Silverthorne Bay Vineyards. It’s important to the owner, Mark Griffin, that I witness the events they host to understand the spirit of this place. It’s one of his requirements before he’ll consider selling me the place. It’s not about the money. Though I think the vineyard has potential, I might pass because there is nothing appealing about hosting weddings or other social events, for that matter.
My goal is to produce wine, not watch two people make the worst mistake of their lives.
Burke: It’s not like I’m enjoying myself.
Teddy: You’re fantasizing about how you’ll be dragging women to Silverthorne Bay with the excuse of checking on your grapes.
Fletch: His balls are as tiny as grapes.
Teddy: I love my brothers, but all five of you are disgusting.
Zach: Autumn would like to disagree. I’m a catch.
Autumn: I never said that, but he’s my catch. Burke, stop being a womanizer.
Burke: It’s not like that.
This is one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life.
I hate weddings.
I loathe them with a passion. There’s not one wedding I’ve attended that hasn’t ended in divorce, screwing up both parties. Well, no, I’m lying. Zach got married three years ago, and that marriage didn’t end up like the rest. His wife died six months after they said I do. It was a tragic accident. The relationship with that woman and her death broke him up so badly that he was still messed up for a while and not because he loved her, but because he carried some weird guilt with him.
Thankfully, he met Autumn and now…well, he’s going to marry her and be happy. That’s a marriage I believe in though. They’re part of the forty-nine percent that stays married. I’m not sure about the two who are about to profess their undeniable love to each other.
“Run before it’s too late,” I whisper.
I hear a burst of muffled laughter right behind me. When I turn, there’s a petite, curvy redhead watching me with playful eyes. She’s cute. Not just cute. She’s gorgeous.
“Let me guess, he’s your best friend, and you have the car ready to go in case he gets cold feet.”
I turn to look at the two naïve people standing under the wooden wedding arch adorned with garden roses and other greenery I don’t know. The woman officiating the wedding talks about the meaning of love. She mentions something about finding the right person. She babbles about blessings, destiny, and meeting the one when the time is right.
Would I stop the wedding? No.
“You’d be wrong. Why would I want to stop it?”