Daphne grins the second she sees me. “Oh, honey. I’m so happy!” She pulls me into a hug that smells like hairspray and vanilla. “I think you’re gonna dowonderfulhere.”
“So… I’m hired?”
She pulls back and winks. “Oh, you bet your sweet tea-stained church dress you are! When can you start?”
* * *
No word from “Thor”all week. And I’m not about to act desperate.
Besides, I’ve got mixed feelings about the wholegetting a guy’s number from a sex clubthing, plus I’ve been busy with job training, which starts next Monday.
It’s brutally hot outside, so I decide it’s a good day to do some summer cleaning in the attic.
While I’m at it, I slip my engagement ring off and let the sun shine through it.
I’m the last real hope of the family to carry on our line. Aunt Miranda’s only son, Ryan, is fourteen and already rebellious. He’s said flat-out that the family business is “stupid” and wants nothing to do with it.
Meanwhile, Keith can’t even answer a damn text. Typical. He never talks about business, never asks about mine. He’s never once asked what Iactuallywant to do with my journalism degree.
He just assumes I’m going to be a housewife.
Family matters to me. But I don’t want it forced down my throat.
I want a say.
I want a voice.
I pull down a small box labeledhigh school stuffand crack it open. Inside, I find my old stash of romance novels—a fantasy series built around Greek mythology… and yeah, they’re kind of spicy.
I grab one at random, flip to a dog-eared page, and my gut drops—in that weird, synchronistic way—when I see the name of the male protagonist: Thor.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble.
Right then, my phone buzzes.
A voice message from Thor.
Not a text.
My heart slams in my chest. I press play without hesitation.
“Hey there, Luna. Sorry I didn’t get back to you. Been an insane week. I’ve been thinking about last Saturday. A lot. You just seem like someone I need to get to know better.”
He pauses. There’s a low, guttural sound, almost like a growl. A bolt of heat shoots through me.
“I’ve been staring at that picture all week—your wrists tied like that. Hottie.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Still not ready to expose my voice—feels too vulnerable, tooreal—I type out a message instead.
Luna: And I want to get to know the man behind the mask. With the sexy voice.
Thor: Happy to hear you think my voice is sexy.
Luna: It sounds so familiar. Are you from Vansborough? And were you really at Holloway’s Hideout the other day?
Three dots appear. They spin for a long time before the response finally comes.
