Page 37 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

Instead, I say, “Men who create work for me emotionally.”

Grace lets out a delighted laugh. “Again with the excellent phrases. I really do need to start writing these down.”

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes against the table hard enough to rattle my spoon.

I glance down at the screen.

Lara.

I frown. “That’s weird.”

Nina peers over. “Work?”

“She never calls unless something’s on fire.”

“Maybe the coffee machine finally snapped.”

“That thing is immortal.” I answer. “Hey, what happened?”

Lara doesn’t even bother with hello. “Please tell me you’re not busy.”

I glance around at the books, coffee, my sister’s smirk, and Grace’s look of predatory interest. “Nothing I can’t abandon.”

“Tina called out sick, Bobby’s running late because his truck battery died, and I’m stuck covering the floor and deliveries at the same time.”

I wince. “That bad?”

“Only until Bobby gets here, but unless you want Marius personally delivering club sandwiches in an apron and a mood, I need help for a couple hours.”

I close my eyes briefly. “Lara.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I will buy you pie.”

“There’s not enough pie.”

“I’ll throw in fries.”

I sigh. “Give me twenty minutes.”

“You’re my favorite person.”

“That feels manipulative.”

“It is. Bye.”

She hangs up.

I stare at my phone, then drop it onto the table.

Nina winces. “Emergency shift?”

“Deliveries.”

Grace pats my hand once, perfectly serene. “See? There are, in fact, worse things than handsome men and too much money.”

I stand and grab my jacket off the back of the chair. “You’ve become weirdly committed to proving this point.”

Grace smiles. “I’m very persuasive.”