Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Do you?” Katherine asks.
For a second, I wonder if she’s asking because Hunter’s said something. But it seems out of character for him. Anyway, he hates me.
“He’s not my type,” I say.
Katherine scrunches up her nose. “Not at all? His body is . . .” Her eyes light up.
“Katherine!” I admonish. “You’re getting married in a couple of months.”
“Married, not buried. Hunter’s a good-looking guy with a great body. I don’t know how he does it, because he’s a total workaholic. Maybe he’s lifting weights during meetings? Getting his steps in at a walking desk? Or maybe he doesn’t sleep.”
“Seems more likely,” I muse. “I wouldn’t rule out him being a vampire.”
“Because he’s so handsome?” Katherine asks hopefully.
I don’t want to burst her bubble and tell her that he’s probably itching to give me a neck wound.
“He’s not bad looking,” I concede. I’m sure Debbie agrees with me.
Katherine’s eyes go wide. “I knew it. You two have chemistry. I saw it at our engagement party.”
I roll my eyes but don’t push back. What’s the point? If thinking Hunter and me having chemistry makes Katherine happy, then she deserves to stay in her bubble. Only the two of us need to know that our “chemistry” was pure, unadulterated hostility until recently. That’s water under the bridge. We’ve officially entered our truce era.
Chapter Nine
Hunter
I hate to admit it, but Lucy being so organized about everything for this weekend has inspired me to put a little bit more effort into things than I would have had she not been breathing down my neck every second of the past two and a half weeks.
We’ve actually managed to work together collaboratively. And truth be told, she’s given me the easy jobs, taking on a lot of the heavy lifting herself. I made a reservation for tonight, but she found the restaurant. I’ve organized the fishing for Saturday, but the rest of the weekend has been Lucy’s doing. As she’s reminded me in her near-hourly texts.
I left work early to fly up from New York. As I wheel my suitcase to the gate at Boston Logan, the first person I see is Lucy, looking right at me, slightly separated from the group.
“You’re late,” she snaps, like I have it within my power to make the flight up from LaGuardia land a little earlier. I thought we’d called a truce. “Did you bring the wigs?”
I wince and my stomach drops because I know I’ve messed up. I left it late to order the wigs for Lucy’s Pulp Fiction dress-up surprise. I wouldn’t have gotten them in time to bring them up, but I’ve ordered the wigs to go to the house and paid extra for express delivery. I’m not completely sure whether we’ll get them, so I don’t want to tell Lucy and get her hopes up. “Sorry.”
“Are you kidding? You had, like, two jobs. One of them was to bring the wigs.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Now we’re going to be all dressed up in clam diggers and white shirts for the bonfire on the second evening, and it’s not going to fucking land. We’re not going to look like Uma without the wigs.” Her hands ball into fists and she stares at the ceiling, like it’s taking all her willpower not to punch me in the face. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”
“Jesus Christ, Lucy, I’m sorry, okay? I’ve had a lot to deal with at work. Things can’t always be perfect. You can’t set the bar so high and just expect everyone to pole-vault over it. People are going to screw up.”
“No, you’re going to screw up. You always screw up.”
I feel her words come at me like arrows piercing my chest. I can’t keep my cool anymore. “Just like you’re always a demonic witch. I don’t know how you and Katherine share the same DNA. You’re a—”
“Hey,” Katherine calls, interrupting us.
Lucy freezes, staring at me. Her expression is pure panic. It’s like she’s been caught in enemy territory and is about to get shot. It’s hard not to feel sorry for her. Her chest starts to heave, and I step toward her, concerned she’s hyperventilating.
Suddenly, Katherine is by our side, looking between us. “Is everything okay?”
Clearly everything is not okay. We’re in the middle of a huge argument. I’m this close to turning around and flying right back to Manhattan. Lucy is having a seizure or something. This is not the perfect start to the weekend.
“Everything’s amazing,” Lucy says, turning and grinning at her sister like nothing’s wrong at all. I glance at Lucy, wondering if she’s lost her mind or is just biding her time while she plots a way to carve out my heart before boarding our flight.
“Are you sure?” Katherine asks. “Because it looked like the two of you were about to rip each other’s heads off. I want you two to be friends.”