Page 13 of Long Story Short

EIGHT

JOSIE

This man is too smooth.

All I can do is stare at him for a few seconds as I fully process his words. I don’t think I’ll be here for the entire summer, but I don’t tell him that. I don’t know why I keep it to myself, but something about his flirting is refreshing. I know it’s a distraction, but I like the rush of adrenaline that runs through me at his subtle advances.

“We’ll see,” I respond, my voice lowered as I rip my gaze from his. I can’t stare into his deep blue eyes a second longer. He’s too attractive for his own good. I turn my focus to my traitor of a cat, who seems happy as can be in Tyson’s arms.

“Mouse, it’s time we stop bothering Tyson.”

“He’s not bothering me.”

I sigh, shaking my head as my cat lets out a loud, contented purr as Tyson’s fingers scratch at his chest.

I let my gaze meet Tyson’s again, finding his blue-jean stare already locked on me. “He desperately wants to be an outdoor cat, but living in Manhattan, it doesn’t really work out well for him. I guess now that we’re here, he’s taking every chance he gets to make a break for it.” I shake my head as I try to think about how he even got out in the first place. I swore every window was shut, and I hadn’t even left the house yet this morning to give him the chance to run out the door. “I don’t even know how he got out, but I promise I’ll investigate so this doesn’t happen a third time.”

Tyson smiles, and I can’t ignore how the sight of his perfect white teeth with the way his lips turn up sends a rush of heat throughout my entire body. “You live in Manhattan?”

Out of all the things he could’ve focused on from what I said, I wasn’t expecting him to latch on to where I live. “Yes. Born and raised.”

“And what’s your last name, Josephine?”

My lips purse. I know I should maybe be put off by the brazen way he asks my last name, but I’m not. But I still can’t figure out why he wants to know in the first place. I think about whether I want to answer or not, but I figure…why not? I’m sure if he really wanted to, he could figure it out anyway. I might as well tell him. “Russell.”

He doesn’t bother to hide the shock on his face. His lips part, and his dark eyebrows rise slightly on his forehead. “Russell,” he repeats, my last name sounding deep and raspy as he says it. “Do you happen to know an Arthur Russell?”

I smile at the mention of Pop. “Of course. He’s my grandfather. Why?”

Tyson quietly stares at me as he takes in my answer. He lets out a breath and shakes his head for a moment, his eyes wide with what might be disbelief. “No reason. I’ve just heard a lot about your grandfather. It’s hard not to know about him.”

My smile grows even wider. I’m not surprised. Pop has built a reputation for himself. He worked hard to grow the business. And if Tyson recognizes my grandfather’s name, my guess is he’s built some kind of empire of his own—or at least his family has.

“Would I recognize your last name?” I ask, wanting to know more about him since he now knows a little about me. A simple internet search could tell him far more than I’m willing to share right now, and I want to know his full name in case I choose to learn more about him online.

Mouse lets out a meow from Tyson’s arms, reminding me that he’s still here. I’ve been so locked into the conversation with Tyson that I forgot all about my cat.

Cat Mother of the Year.

I step forward and scratch Mouse behind the ears. He tilts into my touch but makes no movement to leave Tyson’s arms. I don’t know what it is about Tyson that has Mouse obsessed, but it’s clear that Mouse doesn’t care about me if Tyson’s around.

I don’t realize how much closer our bodies are until Tyson speaks up to answer my question. “Tyson Bishop.” His breath tickles my cheek with his answer. We’re so close I can tell just how blue his eyes are. There’s something about his gaze that’s comforting, and I try to ignore how warm my body feels underneath his stare.

Tyson doesn’t say anything else after giving me his name. He doesn’t have to. Because of course I recognize who he is.

My breath hitches for a moment as I think about everything I know about his family.

The left corner of his mouth twitches with the hint of a smirk as he stares at me. “It seems like you recognize my name as well.”

I give him a smile as I think about what I know about his family. I don’t know much about him—I don’t care to pay too close attention to the gossip or the happenings of the rich and famous in Manhattan—but I do know that everyone was shocked when his sister married his rival, which must have been a couple of years ago at this point. If I remember right, their families ended up joining forces with their companies. I think it might be hotels—or maybe it’s some different kind of real estate. I can’t be completely sure. What I am sure of…he’s rich.

Mega-rich.

Remembering I need to answer him, I let my smile grow as I twist a piece of hair around my finger. “Just a little. But don’t worry, I don’t know much about your reputation. I avoid the social scene—and the gossip—of Manhattan as much as possible.”

His eyes soften as his shoulders slacken. His lip turns up just a little higher. “Same.”

We stare at each other for a few more minutes, and I don’t know what to say. He’s going to be my neighbor while I’m here, so it’s nice to be able to put a name to his face. But I’m cautious about becoming too friendly with him. I escaped to Pop’s Hamptons home to lock myself away and write. Befriending the hot neighbor—Tyson Bishop—isn’t a good way to make sure I finish this manuscript on time.