Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
And that’s why I have to lean in there.
“What’s up?” Abe says when we’re out of earshot of anyone else.
“I wondered if I could talk to your mate about something.”
In a flash, Abe has me pinned against his vehicle, his eyes glowing with his wolf.
I laugh, holding up my hands. “Relax. It’s about Lotta. You can be there for protection if you want.”
Abe blinks, his wolf receding. He releases me and gives his head a shake to snap his neck. “Sorry, man. Just instinct.”
“Yeah. No worries. I get it.”
“So… yeah. Do you want to go over there now?”
I nod. “Did you tell her about me and Lotta?”
Abe frowns. “No, dude. You swore me to secrecy.”
“Right, yeah. Thanks. I mean, we could tell her if you think she can keep a secret. Or I can just not use specifics.”
“She can keep a secret.” He sounds offended on her behalf. “Her twin doesn’t even know they’re bears.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll follow you over to her place?”
“Yeah. See you there.”
I climb on my bike and trail Abe to the mansion on Moongaze Hill where Lauren and Lincoln Sterling live. The twins moved here this school year from Manhattan, and their human and wealth status inspired instant hatred in all of Wolf Ridge. Now that Abe marked Lauren as his mate, though, they’re under his protection, and things have changed for them socially.
I follow Abe up to the hand-carved door. Inside, the sound of a piano stops playing, and Lauren comes to the door. Her soft gaze lands on Abe then skips to me, and she raises a quizzical brow.
“Hey, Lauren. I, uh, wondered if I could pick your brain about New York. And art stuff.”
Her brows pop, but she holds the door open wide. “Of course. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” I have no idea if this is a hare-brained idea or not, but I figure it’s worth a shot.
As we enter the house, the sounds of killer electric guitar playing come from the hallway. I jerk my thumb in that direction. “Is that your brother playing?”
Lauren sits on the couch, and Abe slides in right beside her, an arm draped behind her back. “Yeah. He’s pretty good.”
“And you were playing the piano?” I take a seat in the chair opposite them.
“Did you come here to flirt with my girl or ask art questions?” Abe cuts in, and I grin at his possessiveness. I hold my palms out. “Art questions. Chill, bro.”
Lauren rolls her eyes, but I can tell she loves it.
“So…this is probably a wild goose chase, but you’re sophisticated, and you came from New York. I wondered if you know anything about the New York art scene? Like how to get into galleries?” As I say the words, I realize how ridiculous I sound. “Nevermind, this was a dumb idea.” I stand.
“It’s not dumb.”
I sink back into the chair.
“We know some fairly big-time artists. Like the kind who sell paintings for fifty thousand dollars.”
“Whoa. Okay. So any advice?”
“I mean…are you thinking about art school?”
I let out a harsh laugh. “It’s not for me. She already graduated from the most prestigious art school in the country.”
“Ohhhh–she.” Lauren looks at me speculatively. “Ms. James.” She glances at Abe for confirmation.
“Would it be okay if we kept this between us?” I ask. “Abe knows, but that’s it.”
Lauren’s lips curve. “Scandalous.”
“Please, Lauren. It’s not my life that would be ruined if it got out.”
Lauren mimes locking her lips with a key. “My lips are sealed.” She throws the imaginary key over her shoulder. “So, yeah. There are gallery owners you can approach. I can ask my dad if he can connect me with one of our family friends to get some specific contacts if you want.”
“Really?” This went way better than expected. “Yeah. I mean, yes, please. I would really appreciate that, Lauren.”
“No problem. I'll talk to my dad tonight at dinner and get back to you. Want me to text you?”
“No way you’re getting my girl’s phone number,” Abe interrupts.
Lauren rolls her eyes again. “We’ll group chat then.”
Lotta
The next night Asher meets me at school as I’m cleaning up to come home. “Am I late again?” I ask breathlessly when I open the locked door for him.
He picks me up to straddle his waist, the same way he did last time.
I wriggle. “The janitor’s still here,” I whisper, and he drops me immediately, sending me a boyish, dimpled grin that makes my insides melt.
“You’re not late, I just wanted to take some measurements.” He pulls a measuring tape from his jeans pocket as he strides down the hallway to my studio.
“Measurements?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna frame your paintings.”
I stop walking. “What?”
He turns and grins. “You heard me, Ms. James.” He tilts his head toward the studio. “I watched a Youtube video on how to DIY frames and save hundreds of dollars.”