Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
The garden stretches into pale dunes, and beyond that, the ocean sparkles like it was ordered off a dream board.
And then I see him.
Cole.
He’s on the next balcony over, legs stretched out, jaw tilted toward the sky.
“Staring’s rude, Emily,” he says, not looking over. “Do I need to teach you a lesson about that, too?”
“I’m not staring,” I say. “I’m absorbing the sights.”
That gets a small laugh. Then he turns to face me.
“My mom said you’re a little older than me,” I say, folding my arms. “I can’t blame you for not wanting to move out of your dad’s beach mansion.”
“You’re making one hell of an assumption there.” His smirk returns—slow, crooked, maddening. “I’m only here temporarily.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two. You?”
“Nineteen.”
His eyes roam over me, slow and deliberate. “So… still hanging on to that thing I almost ruined?”
I blink. “What?”
He leans back in his chair. “Your virginity. Or do I have to pretend we never met?”
My mouth opens, then shuts. The heat in my face spreads down my neck.
“That’s none of your business.”
“That’s not a no.”
“Do you talk to all your future stepsisters like this?”
“I don’t have any others.”
I spin on my heel and slam the doors shut, locking them fast.
There’s no way this is really happening.
5
COLE
Idraw my drapes shut to block out any glimpses of my new floor mate. Then I set up an easel against the wall and tear off the first online commission request from today:
I want you to paint a pic of me lying on my back in the ocean against the tide with some starfish and turtles. Can you make me look thinner plz? And then can you make my eyebrows look less bushy and make my swimsuit black instead of pink? Thanx!
I mutter a curse under my breath.
The price of being an artist is painting other people’s fantasies until I can afford to create my own. That—and surviving my father one more goddamn summer.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I don’t move. I prep my mixing bowls instead.
“Cole?” My dad steps in, shutting the door behind him. “I know you heard me knocking.”
“I did.”
“So, why didn’t you answer?”
“I was going to call you later.”
“What I want,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “is for you to come down to the garden and have dinner with me and everyone else.”
“Not happening.”
“Cole—”
“We made a deal,” I cut him off. “One summer of pretending to play your perfect son in exchange for a lifetime of bullshit and what you pulled last fall. I show up to your fake events, smile for your fake friends, and in return, you leave me the hell alone.”
He says nothing. Just stands there like he’s got something to say, but knows it won’t hold weight.
“You can close the door on your way out,” I say. “Thanks.”
“It would mean a lot to me if you came to dinner.”
“Still not an incentive.”
“I like Heather,” he says. “It’s serious.”
“You just met her.”
“When you know, you know.”
Right. That’s his whole brand—Family Over Everything. Ironic.
“Is this one new?” he asks, nodding toward a canvas I finished last week.
“No.”
“It’s good,” he mutters. Then after a beat: “Think about how you’d feel if you were Emily. New place. New people. Potential stepbrother being an ass for no reason.”
The word stepbrother makes me drop one of my brushes. Just hearing it should kill any thought I’ve had about her.
It doesn’t.
“I give up,” he says, throwing up his hands and storming out.
I close the door behind him and repeat that word a few times in my head.
Stepbrother.
An hour later
I set a timer on my phone and head to the garden.
Once, it used to be the only place I liked on this property. Now? It’s just another set for my father’s fiction.
I drop into a seat directly across from Emily.
“Oh my god, Cole!” Taylor’s voice hits before I even register she’s here. She plops down beside me, all smiles and cleavage. “I can’t believe you’re actually here this summer!”
“That makes two of us.”
“Cole and I used to spend every summer here,” she says to Emily. “Everyone thought we were gonna get married someday.”
“You need a Wall Street guy to afford your habits,” my dad says. “And you’re not even into Cole.”
The table laughs. I don’t.
Taylor’s never been into anyone who wanted her back. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s ‘accidentally’ flashed me or tried grinding her drunk ass into my lap.
“I’m giving Heather a tour of the town tomorrow,” My dad says to Emily, smiling. “Want to come with?”
“Sure,” Emily says. “That sounds nice.”
“Heather tells me you two do everything together,” my dad adds. “Just want you to know you’re included in anything we do.”
“We definitely do everything together,” Emily says coolly, sipping her water.
Something in her tone flicks a switch. There’s tension there. I don’t know if her mom catches it—but I do.
“Dinner is served,” Ramen, the part-time chef, announces, placing down the first of many trays.