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Little Junie, never enough to keep a man around.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, shoulders hunched.
“Everything! But let’s start with his job. What does he do?”
Okay, I know this, at least.
“He works for Higher Ends International. One of their big fish guys.”Oh crap, did I say that?“It’s a pretty high-powered real estate thing, I guess. He like… acquires properties to spruce up and turns them into glorified Airbnbs.”
I’m frowning.
Is that even right?
I have no idea beyond the quick facts I dug up when I did my internet sleuthing.
Beyond the fact that they’re kind of a big deal in the KC rental market and he chases down guys like Forrest Haute who are even bigger and richer than he is, I have no real idea what Higher Ends really does.
Nana frowns as she measures sugar carefully on her old brass scales. I’ve offered to buy her electronic scales more times than I can remember, but she swears by them.
So much so that I bought a pair for myself last Christmas and started using them to bake at home. Not practical at the store, but it turns out there’s something deeply satisfying about weighing things out the old-fashioned way.
“So, he’s a property developer then,” she says slowly. “And a rather successful one at that.”
“Yeah.” I pinch my eyes shut. “You could say that.”
“What do you mean, dear? Surely, you’d know?”
“We haven’t talked much about… money. I mean, I think it’s a little touchy when he’s so rich and I’m—well, me.”
Nana laughs and shakes her head. “Juniper Winkley, don’t youdaresell yourself short in my presence.”
“His house is really fancy,” I offer.
That gets her attention. She whips her head around so fast her glasses almost slip off her nose. “Oh?”
I think back to what I remember.
It’s all a blur, honestly.
I hadn’t thought my big ambush through before I arrived, and seeing him there in his workout clothes—with so much sweat clinging to his skin—he was hotter than the sun. Standing and leering at me like a Greek god in his personal Olympus that could fit my shoebox one-room apartment a dozen times over.
“It’s big,” I say helplessly. “He has a kitchen to die for with all the latest stuff. Oh, and an indoor gym.”
“Ah, that explains it. He looks rather trim. You don’t get a body like that pushing papers all day.”
“Nana!”
“What? I have eyes in my head, y’know.”
This conversation could not get any worse.
“So,” Nana says, her mouth busier than her hands. “How did you meet?”
Welp, I was wrong. This conversationcanget worse.
How am I supposed to answer that?
“Oh, you know,” I say vaguely. “People. Friends.”
