Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Thanks, sis. I owe you.”
“I’ll add it to the pile of other favors you owe me.”
After I hung up, I ran the box down to the shipping-and-receiving department and rushed back to my office to pack up for the day. I turned around to unplug my laptop, and when I faced the desk again, Wilder stood in my doorway.
I jumped. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry.” He grinned, not looking sorry at all.
“What are you doing in New York? The next wedding isn’t until next weekend.”
“I had some business to take care of. I’m in town until tomorrow, and then back a few days later.”
“Business with Bride magazine?”
He smiled. “No, definitely not. I’m in talks to add an expansion team to the USRL.”
“The USRL?”
“US Rugby League.”
“Really? That’s a thing here?”
He chuckled. “It is, indeed.”
“I guess you’re into rugby then?”
“You could say that. How about you?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never watched a game before. But I’ve seen snippets of it because my dad watches. I know it’s a tough-guy sport.”
“It’s a physical game, yes.”
“Did you ever play?”
He smiled again. “Once or twice.”
I slipped my laptop into my bag. “Where’s your sidekick?”
“Lucas? He’s having dinner with our mum’s sister.”
“Ah, you’re brothers. I knew you had to be related. You have the exact same eyes.”
“They’re from our mother. Lucas and I have different fathers.”
“He seems like a whip.”
“He’s a pain in the ass. Thinks he’s twenty when he’s only just turned fifteen.”
I smiled. “I might have a friend for him. My niece is way smarter than her father and me. Just ask her.” I tilted my head. “Look at us, having a civil conversation.”
Wilder’s eyes dropped to my lips. “Maybe we should argue? I like where that got us better.”
I laughed. “I think that was more due to the alcohol and my appreciation for cupcakes.”
“Have dinner with me tonight? I’ll stop by a bakery and ply you with martinis to increase the odds of a good night kiss.”
“Can’t. I have to work. In fact, I need to get out of here, or I’m never going to make it.”
“Moonlighting?”
“I think you technically have to get paid for it to be considered moonlighting. I’m covering for my brother at our family’s bar.”
“Your brother doesn’t pay you?”
“He can barely pay rent half the time. But the pub has been in our family for four generations. It’s the third-oldest bar in Manhattan.”
“What’s it called?”
“Carrick’s.”
“Your last name.”
I nodded.
“Would you have said yes to my dinner invitation if you didn’t have to work?”
“Probably not.” I grinned. “You’re handsome, I’ll give you that. But you’re also kind of a jerk, and overall you seem like a bad idea. Plus, I’m on a man moratorium.”
“Didn’t seem like it in the coat closet.”
I sighed. “That was a mistake.”
Wilder clutched his chest. “Ouch.”
I laughed and shoved the rest of what I needed into my bag. “I’m sure you can bat those thick eyelashes and get any woman you want.”
His eyes sparkled. “Apparently not. But I don’t give up easily.”
I hoisted my bag to my shoulder and walked out the door, leaving him standing just outside my office. Halfway down the hall, I felt eyes on my back. “Stop checking out my ass!”
“Only if you stop walking away from me, Cupcake.”
* * *
Forty minutes later, I flew through the front door of the brownstone. My niece, Olivia, was sitting on the stairs talking on her cell.
“Why are you talking on the phone in the hall? Your dad’s not even home yet.”
She shrugged. “I like it out here.”
“Whatever.” I walked halfway up the flight of stairs to where she sat and kissed the top of her head. “Freaking subway got stuck, so I’m late. I have to be at Carrick’s in fifteen minutes. Gotta go change.”
Olivia went back to talking on the phone while I climbed the rest of the stairs. At the top, I turned the corner for the next flight … and then the next. I reached the fourth-floor landing huffing and puffing and very much missing the old, slow-as-shit elevator I’d taken for granted when I lived uptown. Though the climb was forgotten by the time I caught my breath and opened the door to my walk-in closet—something I would never be able to afford if I didn’t live here.
My brother Will had bought this brownstone with the life-insurance money he got after his wife died. It had been converted into four separate apartments a half century ago. When one of the tenants moved out a few months after he moved in with Olivia, he’d asked me to live in one of the units in exchange for keeping an eye on his daughter. Will worked twenty-four-hour shifts at the FDNY. I would’ve moved to help out even without this amazing place, but being in the same building did make it easier when he worked overnights. A year after I’d moved in, Dad had been diagnosed with advanced Parkinson’s, so when another unit came up for renewal, Will opted not to keep the tenant. Instead, Dad sold his apartment and moved into the ground-floor unit here. So I lived with my family. But it was the best of both worlds. We all had our privacy, yet we could chip in and help each other.