Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
I need the money.
I’ve been trying to make an honest living in Connecticut with Hailey, and that also means relying on my paycheck to cover rent. She took off today, and I don’t think we can both afford to skip.
Money wins over my emotional state, and I hightail it to the bar. Thankfully I’m not being approached by Stella and her new matchmaker—sorry, I mean, con-artist friends.
While assisting the four women in pickleball skirts, I practice patience as they ask for mimosas. Being short-staffed really sucks. There is no bartender I can tag in, and so I quickly pour champagne into the polished flutes.
“I’m telling you, Jem, he made an appearance this morning. Early. We were the only ones here.”
“She’s right,” a freckle-cheeked early riser named Laura vouches. “You can’t blame him for not wanting to be a part of the afternoon rush. He’s so sweet and tenderhearted, and after what happened…” They let out a collective pity sigh.
I’m…so lost.
I’d love to soak in the juicy gossip, but my head is already crammed full.
“Did you see him, Phoebe?” Jem asks. So much for staying out of this.
“Who?” I splash orange juice in the glasses.
“Trent Koning Waterford,” Laura tells me like she’s introducing Angelina Jolie. Full name status.
Trent is Jake’s oldest brother. A brother that I’ve never met.
“Huh,” I say, my interest piquing. “I did not happen to see this specter of a man.” Hailey thinks Trent doesn’t exist. He’s been the Bigfoot of Koning brothers, rarely appearing at town gatherings. Always spoken of in hushed settings.
Case in point.
“Well, he was here,” Laura defends. “He even said hello to Anika.”
“He did.” Anika smiles proudly while I hand her a mimosa. “I just wish he felt like he could be a part of the community. We’re all here for him after…” She leaves the sentence hanging.
They’re waiting for me to ask. They’re not going to leave until I do.
Fine.
Admittedly, I kind of want to know. “After what?”
“His wife’s passing,” Laura says solemnly.
My brows jump. “He was married?”
“He’s thirty-two, dear,” Jem tells me, sipping her mimosa. They all now have their drinks.
Laura bows closer to ask me, “Doesn’t the staff here call him the ‘unofficial fourth widower’?”
“Um, I haven’t heard it if they do, but I’m sort of still new.” And maybe the other servers wouldn’t want to talk about Jake’s brother in front of his “girlfriend”—so I’ve been left out of the staff gossip, too. Maybe Hailey has as well, just by association with me.
Being ostracized by both the elite and the service is not a great feeling. I wipe down the counter. “Why is he an unofficial widower and not just official?”
Jem says, “I suppose it’d be more official if Trent stopped by the club more than once in a blue moon.”
“Right.” I toss a towel under the cabinet.
“He married his prep-school sweetheart right after graduation,” Anika fills me in. “She passed away suddenly.”
“Aggressive stage-four melanoma. It was four years ago,” Laura chimes in. “He’s sworn off dating ever since. He’d be the most eligible bachelor in town, but Scarlett was his truest love.”
They all admire his devotion to his late wife, and I’d be more touched by the story if I weren’t so confused.
I’ve gotten the strong impression that Jake hates Trent. He not-so-lovingly has Trent’s ringtone set as “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC. He grumbles Trent’s name under his breath. Groans whenever he has to answer his calls.
Surely Jake, who’s empathetic toward his little sister’s plights, would have a soft spot for his grieving brother?
It’s starting to feel like Jake is the actual asshole. But I can’t worry about the Koning boys. I have a bigger mess to trek through.
After I entertain the ladies for another few minutes, they take their mimosas to the sunroom, and I check on the status of my boss. She’s on the phone at the hostess podium and jotting on a notepad.
All clear.
I hustle out of the dining room, and my soles squeak on the marble floor in the rotunda. I spy the cucumber water. For guests only. Fuck it, if I’m suspended, then I’m going to be a hydrated suspended bitch. I pour a glass and chug the water on my route to where I believe Jake probably went.
I can’t believe I’m hunting for my fake boyfriend before even contacting Hailey and Rocky. This feels so wrong.
But finding Jake seems imperative. And not just so he can reason with Katherine and help me take the day off with pay.
He said he’d call Rocky, and he’s likely pitching the extension of this fake dating scheme to him—and things have just drastically changed.
TWO
Rocky
Sixty miles out of Victoria, I’m in a drugstore stocking up on bandages and other shit my teenage brother might need to recover from a stab wound. Just a regular Friday afternoon for a Tinrock.