“I remember driving by one in LA and liking the name.”
“He and his business partner plow most of the profits back into it, they’re still growing and expanding.” I finally find the open flap. “Got it.”
“Congratulations.” She gives me a sarcastic round of applause.
I grab the other pillow and start to shove it in.
“Elliot, my partner, is one of Maggie and Jim’s three boys. He runs our New York office out of Max’s skyscraper. Max has a big corporation that owns a bunch of things, like that huge building, one of those mattress-in-a-box makers, a big grocery store chain—basically if it makes piles of cash Max will buy it. And then there’s Connor, who’s generally a bit of a fuck-up.” A bit like my pillow.
“But a fuck-up who’s rolling in it?”
“Yeah. Deep down, he’s a great guy. He started Big Brain Toys with all the right intentions. But when it took off, the money went to his head. Spends too much of his time partying. And his people spend too much of their time trying to keep him out of the tabloids.”
I smooth out the pillow as best I can and drop it with pride on top of the one Summer did.
She stands up and tugs at an empty corner of the case that my pillow hasn’t made it into. “Not a prizewinner.”
Fuck, that’s one sexy lip curl. She’s given me more of a hard time in the last couple of hours than any woman has given me for years. The sassiness is hot. She is annoyingly hot.
As much as I want to get the hell out of here and hit the road to my aunt and uncle’s house, I also wouldn’t mind picking her up, tossing her onto those pillows, and putting my hands back up her sweater.
“What doyoudo?” I ask instead.
“Knit.”
“Yeah, you said. I meant what do you do for aliving?”
“Iknit.” She cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrows, as if knitting is an act of defiance.
“And that’s, er, profitable?”
“I make one-off designs and have an online store. And I have some private clients who come to me for commissions. So, yes. I do very well, thank you.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. That’s nice.”
There must be some sort of a business brain hiding behind that hippie exterior. Which makes her even more irritatingly attractive.
Probably best I concentrate on the problem at hand. “Anyway, look. I know you’re fed up with me asking, but, seriously, how long do you think it will be before we have either phone or internet?”
“Oh, for the love of God. It will be as long as it will be. It will take as long as it takes.” She spreads her arms wide. “You won’t die from not being able to make a phone call or send an email.”
Yeah, I shouldn’t have asked again.
Oh, she hasn’t finished.
“And the people trying to fix it might be in danger. They might be out there in a blizzard trying to get the cell tower back up and the cable company back online. And”—her voice gets louder—“you might find it hard to believe, but whether someone has a million or a billion dollars is not as important as their safety.”
I’m starting to get the impression she has a grudge against people with money. But I can’t let her judge me based on that. Usually, I wouldn’t give a crap. I can’t remember the last time I was bothered whether someone liked me. But there’s something about this woman that makes me want her to find me at least tolerable for the twenty-four hours we might be stuck together.
“Not all people with money are dicks, you know.”
She shakes her head and looks at the floor.
“I don’t sit around waiting for people to do things for me.” I cast my eyes back to my shoddily cased pillow. “Despite what my pillowcase-stuffing skills might suggest.”
That raises a small smile. My ability to amuse her feels like a superpower.
“Elliot and I went to MIT. On scholarships we worked our asses off to get. We worked our asses off while we were there. And we’ve worked our asses off on the business ever since. We work seven days a week and haven’t taken a vacation in the six years since we started it.”
