Chapter 2

chapter

two

Harmony

Why is the twin of my stalker carrying my sister?

Summer was supposed to be networking with the team representing the Bryant estate. Word on the street is the sole heiress to that famous railroad fortune has started a grant program for small businesses in rural communities. We need a piece of that.

And not just because I would kill to see the inside of Bryant Castle. My sister and I once explored the grounds and gardens, and I swore I spotted that Bryant heiress from one of the upstairs windows. Summer said I was delusional from my lifelong obsession with the heiress.

What can I say? Some people follow the British royal family. I have Google alerts set for Vanderbilts, Rockefellers, the Gettys, and our local recluse, Esme Bryant. I've read every biography of the era. I've toured the inside of almost every major Gilded Age historic site except for Bryant Castle, which, other than the gardens, is closed to visitors.

So where do I find my sister, who assured me that accompanying her to this godforsaken event would guarantee making contact with a Bryant?

In the arms of one of the MacKenzie finance bros.

I wind through the crowd, ignoring the people smirking at me and my outfit, and come upon the scene.

"What's going on? Why is he carrying you?" I ask.

The other one—Carter, I think—explains that he's not letting my sister put weight on her ankle. So he's a firefighter?

"This is a little over the top," I say.

Everyone ignores me as Summer launches into the hard pitch for the frozen yogurt shop. Well, everyone but Cooper ignores me. He's still staring like a serial killer. Okay, not literally. But it's unsettling. If he wasn't so nice to look at, and wasn't so clumsily helpful and genuinely sweet, I might be attracted.

Take a breath, girl. Remember that's how your ex got his hooks in you. The boy-next-door, "nice guy" act. He was nice…until he wasn't.

I pull myself together mentally and finally realize what's going on.

We haven't even vetted these guys. Why aren't we hobnobbing with the Bryant people, who are a known entity?

Not only that, Summer was just going to give these guys our five-minute elevator pitch without me? The pitch that I wrote?

Sure, Cooper already gave me a verbal commitment—and we don't even know if they have real money—but this stings a little.

"By day, Little Spoon is a next-level, family-friendly, self-serve gourmet fro-yo place with more homemade candy and cookie toppings than in Willy Wonka's imagination. But after 6 p.m., it's a date night hot spot."

Cooper nods thoughtfully. "Sounds fun, but I need to hear more."

He aims this comment at me. He wants me to speak, but my words catch in my throat. Stage fright strikes at the worst times. When Cooper's eyes are on me, I may as well be standing in a spotlight in front of an arena packed with people.

I swallow, and words fail me.

Maybe I should let Summer handle all the networking.

I shouldn't even be at a networking event. I glance down at my outfit, feeling small yet standing out like a sore thumb simultaneously. Summer? She's not trying to hide her assets and has the confidence to carry it off. She owns every room she's in.

Cooper apologizes, his hands pressed together, begging me to say something.

Heat rushes over my skin.

Summer encourages me, reminding me that making Little Spoon a date night destination was my idea. I soften toward her again.

As I explain my plans for a romantic setting, all I can visualize is Cooper: his handsome face across the table from me, the candlelight flickering, chill music playing in the background as we share our favorite desserts with each other.

"Frocktails!" Cooper suddenly shouts.

Uh…is this man having some sort of episode?

I laugh, but the other twin seems annoyed.

Cooper looks pleased with himself. He's genuinely so good-looking, athletic, personable, friendly, and adorably dorky.

The more I try not to like him, the more I fail.

I don't like it enough to date him, but I can look. I put on my professional face as the four of us talk some more. This is happening, I say to myself. We're actually going to get financing and make our dream come true. I might even be able to quit my job as a teacher's aide after a year or two.

All seems to be going well, until we inform our potential investors that we plan to build our shop in the small downtown of Fate, where we live.

The brothers dismiss this idea, and now I can see all my hopes and dreams circling the drain.

Cooper tries to recover when he sees the look on my face.

"It's…not bad, per se…but the last time I was there, Fate wasn't exactly a prosperous enough place to support a decent hotel, let alone?—"

Oh no, he did not just shit-talk my town.

"What Cooper is trying to say is we need a lot more information and we'd like you to come over for dinner at our house," Carter blurts.

We all stare at the other twin.

He explains that this room is too loud, he hates crowds, and he would much rather go somewhere quiet to work out the details of a potential deal.

Somewhere quiet. Right. Nothing fishy about that.

To my shock, Summer agrees on my behalf.

I try to remind her we aren't dressed for dinner, and we'd have to schlep all the way to Fate and back again…but I see how she's staring at Carter and I know that there's no getting through to her sensible side.

"You look perfect," Cooper says to me.

Oh god. Of course he would say that while staring at my boobs. I close the blazer over the silly gold midriff bustier and cross my arms.

The decisions are made, contact info exchanged and plans are set without consulting me. I guess we're packing up the booth and going to dinner at the twins' house.

"You can put my sister down now," I say to Carter.

To my horror, she quickly kisses Carter's cheek before he sets her back on her feet.

Shaking my head, I lend her my shoulder to help her hobble back to our booth before everything melts.

"We're supposed to be wooing them out of their money, not finding dates for ourselves," I remind my sister.

"Why not both?" Summer laughs.

I sigh and look longingly over my shoulder at the Bryant representatives—the deepest pockets at this stupid event.

To my consternation, Cooper catches my eye. He waves and smiles.

I give him my best scowl.

Before I turn away, I catch the wink.

And the way that wink makes me feel is wrong, wrong, wrong. So very wrong.