call an ambulance? Or Dad, or your doctor?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Maybe you should go in for that test the doctor wanted to do."
" No . I just need to rest." She closed her eyes.
"Okay." Valentine stood there at a loss. "Can I get you anything?"
"I just need quiet."
"You want me to go?"
"Please."
She drooped, feeling like she'd failed as a daughter. Swallowing her guilt, she nodded. "Okay, Mom. Call me if you need anything."
Her mom nodded weakly. Then, right as Valentine opened the door, Venus said, "I just want what's best for you sweetheart."
"I know, Mom," she said quietly, letting herself out.
Upset and worried, not knowing what to do, Valentine stopped in front of Grounds for Thought and paced. She didn't need caffeine—she was agitated enough. So she tried calling Marley.
No answer .
Maybe she should go see Nicole. She turned her head in the direction of Romantic Notions, the lingerie shop where her friend worked, but Ethan's form blocked all view.
She frowned at him, not because she wasn't happy to see him but because she was. Too happy.
"W h at's wrong?" he asked.
"I can't see you ."
He looked down at himself. " Am I invisible ?"
" Not hardly ." She sighed. " And that's the problem ."
"It sounds like you need a friendly ear."
Or a padded cell for her mom. She sighed.
He nodded toward his apartment building. "Want to come up and tell me about it ?"
She hesitated. "Do you have vodka?"
"It's eleven in the morning."
"I know. I can't believe I waited this long."
"I don't believe vodka's your drink ." He looked at her up and down. " You're more of a warm milk girl."
"See? " She frowned." T h at's the problem. No one knows me, except for Isabella."
"Isabella 's your sister, right ?"
"Yes, m ylucky twin sister."
"Lucky?"
"Because she's happy, and I'm stuck with this lot in life. "
He tipped his head. " I thought you loved your life. "
" I t's damn great." She pouted.
Ethan grinned.
Holy cow. She gaped at him. He was beautiful when he smiled .
As she tried not to swallow her tongue, he took her arm and led her into his building. Walking into his apartment, he asked, "I s your sister exactly like you? "
She shook her head, mostly to clear the lust. " Not at all. People think we look exactly the same, but we don't. You wouldn't be able to tell us apart."
"Wanna bet?" He glanced at her mouth as he unlocked his door and motioned her inside. "Sit. I'll bring you a drink."
Instead of sitting, she went to his dining room table, which apparently doubled as a workshop. The infamous notebook was there, but it was closed. She wanted to see what was inside, but she had to respect his privacy. Instead she picked up a mold of teeth and inspected it. "What are you working on?"
He came into the room holding out a glass to her. "I didn't have vodka, but my friend Bull left some whiskey here for himself. Knowing Bull, it's expensive stuff. I figured you'd like it with ice."
She sniffed at the glass. It smelled smoky and potent. She normally didn't drink much, but what the heck? She took a big sip. It burned on the way down, and she couldn't help grimacing.
"Good," she rasped when she realized he watched her. She waved to his table. "Does this have to do with what's in your notebook?"
"I'm surprised you haven't peeked in there."
"I didn't want to pry."
He looked pointedly at the mold in her hand.
Smiling sheepishly, she set it down. "What are you making?"
"A mouthpiece that'll absorb the shock of a heavy blow. To keep head injuries to a minimum."
"What happens if you get hit in the ear instead of the jaw? Or the temple?"
He frowned.
It was obvious he didn't like her statement, so she backtracked, hoping to distract him. "Do you have a formula that works?"
"I think so. I'm waiting for Bull to help me test it out."
She perked up. "That's so great. I'm sure a lot of people would use it."
"I'm making it for myself." He turned his back, but he said, "I used to be a fighter before a bad concussion.
"No."
"Are you sure? Maybe you should go in for that test the doctor wanted to do."
" No . I just need to rest." She closed her eyes.
"Okay." Valentine stood there at a loss. "Can I get you anything?"
"I just need quiet."
"You want me to go?"
"Please."
She drooped, feeling like she'd failed as a daughter. Swallowing her guilt, she nodded. "Okay, Mom. Call me if you need anything."
Her mom nodded weakly. Then, right as Valentine opened the door, Venus said, "I just want what's best for you sweetheart."
"I know, Mom," she said quietly, letting herself out.
Upset and worried, not knowing what to do, Valentine stopped in front of Grounds for Thought and paced. She didn't need caffeine—she was agitated enough. So she tried calling Marley.
No answer .
Maybe she should go see Nicole. She turned her head in the direction of Romantic Notions, the lingerie shop where her friend worked, but Ethan's form blocked all view.
She frowned at him, not because she wasn't happy to see him but because she was. Too happy.
"W h at's wrong?" he asked.
"I can't see you ."
He looked down at himself. " Am I invisible ?"
" Not hardly ." She sighed. " And that's the problem ."
"It sounds like you need a friendly ear."
Or a padded cell for her mom. She sighed.
He nodded toward his apartment building. "Want to come up and tell me about it ?"
She hesitated. "Do you have vodka?"
"It's eleven in the morning."
"I know. I can't believe I waited this long."
"I don't believe vodka's your drink ." He looked at her up and down. " You're more of a warm milk girl."
"See? " She frowned." T h at's the problem. No one knows me, except for Isabella."
"Isabella 's your sister, right ?"
"Yes, m ylucky twin sister."
"Lucky?"
"Because she's happy, and I'm stuck with this lot in life. "
He tipped his head. " I thought you loved your life. "
" I t's damn great." She pouted.
Ethan grinned.
Holy cow. She gaped at him. He was beautiful when he smiled .
As she tried not to swallow her tongue, he took her arm and led her into his building. Walking into his apartment, he asked, "I s your sister exactly like you? "
She shook her head, mostly to clear the lust. " Not at all. People think we look exactly the same, but we don't. You wouldn't be able to tell us apart."
"Wanna bet?" He glanced at her mouth as he unlocked his door and motioned her inside. "Sit. I'll bring you a drink."
Instead of sitting, she went to his dining room table, which apparently doubled as a workshop. The infamous notebook was there, but it was closed. She wanted to see what was inside, but she had to respect his privacy. Instead she picked up a mold of teeth and inspected it. "What are you working on?"
He came into the room holding out a glass to her. "I didn't have vodka, but my friend Bull left some whiskey here for himself. Knowing Bull, it's expensive stuff. I figured you'd like it with ice."
She sniffed at the glass. It smelled smoky and potent. She normally didn't drink much, but what the heck? She took a big sip. It burned on the way down, and she couldn't help grimacing.
"Good," she rasped when she realized he watched her. She waved to his table. "Does this have to do with what's in your notebook?"
"I'm surprised you haven't peeked in there."
"I didn't want to pry."
He looked pointedly at the mold in her hand.
Smiling sheepishly, she set it down. "What are you making?"
"A mouthpiece that'll absorb the shock of a heavy blow. To keep head injuries to a minimum."
"What happens if you get hit in the ear instead of the jaw? Or the temple?"
He frowned.
It was obvious he didn't like her statement, so she backtracked, hoping to distract him. "Do you have a formula that works?"
"I think so. I'm waiting for Bull to help me test it out."
She perked up. "That's so great. I'm sure a lot of people would use it."
"I'm making it for myself." He turned his back, but he said, "I used to be a fighter before a bad concussion.
Similar Books
