Fritz: guess who TF is living across from me for three months. Guess.
Gilly: Oh, this sounds juicy. A former fling? A stripper? A drug dealer?
Fritz: what is wrong with you?
Fritz: Leanora Atwood.
Gilly: WHO LET HER LEAVE HER CASTLE
Fritz: Mom is doing her parents a favor. It is wild, Gil. Come over for drinks asap. Grace needs to be in on this too.
Gilly: in on it?
Fritz: trust me.
I snorted and pocketed my phone. The absolute cluelessness of the heiress was a lot to take in.“When is the food delivered?”Good lord, the woman was not going to make it. I locked my door and found her leaning against hers, her pink hair clashing with the deep-cherry wood of the doors I’d had replaced a few months ago when I’d bought the building. Four units, all restored with exposed brick and new appliances. I loved the entire process and being able to keep rent down for at least two tenants. This extra unit was leased by my parents to use as aguest apartment.
“You ready?”
Her gaze was glued to her phone, and she held up her pointer finger at me tohang on.Here I was, doing her a favor, and she was making me wait. This gesture, this entitlement was exactly the reason I hated my parents’ lifestyle. The rich people, the expectations, the rudeness.
It made my blood boil, and I said, “No, we leave now, or you figure shit out on your own.”
She blinked and her eyes got all watery, but I refused to feel bad. “There was a social media campaign to raise awareness in helping older animals find homes, and it required use of hashtags. I needed to contribute.”
“By using ahashtag?”
“Yes,” she said, in a what-planet-do-you-live-on tone. She held her head up high and jutted her chin toward the door. “Shall we?”
“After you,” I said, eyeing her backpack and water bottle covered in stickers. Stickers. A grown-ass adult wearing stickers. This chick waswild.She didn’t just walk either. Oh, no. The weird baggy T-shirt hid the sway of her hips as she took long strides, and I was thankful for that. Admiring her curves was out of question.
Her checkered Vans didn’t have a spot of dirt on them. They had to be right out of the box.
My BMW sat three cars over from the truck, but seeing how much she hated riding in an old car, I wanted to mess with her. Plus, she thought I was a pseudobutler, and if I was owning this part, I needed to act like it. “The back of the truck should fit most of your stuff. You need clothes and food, right?”
“Clothes.” She frowned, wetting her full bottom lip. Sunlight hit her earrings and drew my gaze to the four piercings in each of her ears—all different colors and shapes, all various forms of flowers. Or were they trees? She took out the water bottle and took a long drink before looking right at me.
Her stare unnerved me. Like she’d finally recognized me as Anthony, her betrothed. But then I realized I’d mistaken vulnerability for recognition. She released a short breath and nodded. “I do require clothes. I’m expected at work tomorrow and surely can’t wear this.”
“I imagine those at the Carter Foundation would have issue with it.” I smiled, picturing my mom’s assistant, who ran the whole place, eyeing this chick. Penelope would lose her mind if Nora showed up like this. Part of me wanted to let it happen just for shits and giggles.
“I want to hear all about the foundation! The causes they support, the galas, the events. Oh, it’ll be so fun!” She clapped her hands and looked from right to left. “Is there a boutique nearby we can stop for clothes?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I said, unable to hide my mocking tone. “We’re going to a superstore that has food, toiletries,andclothes all at once. It’ll blow your mind.”
She squirmed in her seat the entire drive there, and a light glow of sweat formed on her brow. Maybe I was an asshole for enjoying her misery. It wasn’t right that she had her whole life handed to her. Her parents even got her a job at my family’s foundation. Had this woman worked a day in her life? Had she ever worked hard at something? Had her heart broken? The fact she lived a sheltered, privileged life without real hurt or sacrifice pissed me off, and I shut my door a little too hard when we got to the parking lot.
She shifted her bag on her back, her jaw tensing as she studied the various people around us, and swallowed hard.
“You can do this, Nora. You got this. Your plants need you.”
Was she talking…to herself?
She nodded a few times, bounced on the balls of her feet, and mumbled a few more things before marching toward the large building. She totally gave herself a pep talk. For a grocery run. This was like shit from a movie. It felt that surreal.
My lips quirked up before I could stop myself, and I used a hand to cover my mouth. She didn’t need to see me laughing at her.
She waltzed into the store, and I had to pick up my pace to catch up to her, but she twirled in a circle, her eyes bright with excitement? “Fritz,” she said when I approached her in the aisle between chips and stacks of beer. “This is exhilarating.”
