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“Yup. The Jameson ones are causing a heck of a lot of interest. The Kinnock correspondence isn’t doing as good as the others. But we’ll see how they sell at auction as they’re the more salacious letters.” Reid grinned. Salacious was a mild word for it. Lady Downing had written Elizabethan porn and had it returned tenfold. The courtesan had key and influential personalities in Elizabeth’s court as lovers.
“They are,” I replied, grinning back.
“Still mad?” Reid asked. I turned my grin into a glare. “That’s a yeah,” he confirmed.
Oh hell, that was a yes, infuriating bugger.
“I don’t need babysitters, Reid.”
Reid’s gaze grew serious, and he sat down on the arm of my armchair.
“Never thought you did; you’re shy and retiring and do not enjoy mixing with individuals because your fantastic brain works at a different level from the plebs. That made you uncertain of yourself. Folk couldn’t understand your intelligence, not even at Oxford.”
I snorted. “Oxford is full of brilliant people.”
“But few child prodigies. Not ones who can tear down an idea or alleged fact within minutes. I’ll never forget when you challenged our mythology professor about Atlantis and stated your facts clearly.”
“Believing in Atlantis and arguing its existence got me kicked out of his class.”
“The professor was an asshole who hated being informed by a far younger and brilliant student to get his head out of his damned ass and open his eyes. To be fair, the idiot was out of his depth and couldn’t refute your arguments. You were amazing, and although you were shy, you shone that day. Never seen something so beautiful.
“Fifteen years old and hiding at the back of the hall and telling a professor that just because he couldn’t touch Atlantis, that did not mean it didn’t exist. Then telling him he shouldn’t be a Christian because he could not physically touch God, which meant God was a myth. Nobody was surprised he kicked you out. You had more knowledge than him.”
Reid made me smile at the memory.
“I still don’t need a babysitter,” I informed him snottily. Reid snorted and ruffled my hair. I hated when he did that, and Reid knew it.
“No, because you’re one of the strongest people I’ve met, you hate social situations, you feel inept and dislike feeling like that. Sinclair, you don’t enjoy depending on folk because Dad taught you not to. From thirteen, when you left for college and graduated, you’ve been independent.
“Oxford didn’t know how to handle your brilliance. I always believed you should have finished with more qualifications than you did. You and I know you’ve built a solid reputation as the appraiser for rare texts in the few years you have been back in the states.
“Obviously, you don’t enjoy being alone even though you’re used to it, and Jett likes you Sin, so yeah, I meddled. Deal with it,” Reid told me and unfolded his long frame from my chair.
Annoyed, I glared at him and kicked his ankle lightly, and Reid ruffled my hair again, causing me to bat my hands at him as he strolled away. I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye and saw Manny standing there.
“You lied,” Manny stated accusingly.
I bristled.
“Did not,” I denied instantly, although I wasn’t sure what the man thought I’d lied about.
“Did too,” Manny replied, pointing a finger, “You said you were normal. College at thirteen? Oxford at fifteen? That’s not ordinary. Jett better buckle up, think you’re gonna run rings around him.”
“I’m not doing anything to anybody.” I shook my head.
Manny let out a beautiful smirk that stunned me into silence.
“Lady, you’re already doing it,” Manny said, and the smile broke into a grin. Did Rage have a requirement that all their brothers had to be panty-meltingly gorgeous? Manny folded his inked-up arms and regarded me.
“I am not!” I replied, letting ire slip into my voice. Manny kept grinning.
“Going to be fun. About time we got one who’s amusing,” Manny responded bizarrely and strolled away. Now I wanted to kick Manny, too. Men, they were so confusing.
I looked back at my reports, and finally, after ten minutes of reading the same report. Agitated, I put my laptop to the side and took a stroll around the shop. It was as busy as yesterday, which was good, and I kept hearing the sound of the registers being rung up. I’d noticed an influx of people who seemed to know each other, and a young purple-haired woman strolled in my direction.
“Hey, I’m Emily, Phoe’s PA. If you need anything, here’s my card, call me. We’re tight around here, try to help each other out, and Phoe likes HQ supporting local shops, so we do the best we can. HQ has some avid readers, so you can expect our custom,” Emily announced with a friendly smile. Her right hand held a cup of coffee, and her left arm held about eight books balanced there.
“Here, let me help,” I repeated, taking them.
