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“I’m resourceful when I want to be.”
“I have no doubt.”
Oh jeez, he was looking at her again. She could feel his gaze like a brand.
His eyes narrowed when she reluctantly turned. “You’re cooking up a plan, aren’t you, Snoopy? I recognize that look in your eyes.”
“No,” she said, frowning because shewashatching a plan. And how the hell did he always know exactly what she was thinking? “I was just feeling sorry for your students, having to look at this poor attempt at a turkey every day.”
“Uh-huh.” He turned to face her fully.
“I was.”
“Sure,” he said, throwing her a wink.
Desperate to avoid the way that action lit her up inside, Indy dropped her eyes. But she immediately regretted it when it meant she was now staring at his belt. Glossy black leather with a silver clasp.
She startled when he cleared his throat.
“Thank you for bringing these,” he said, patting the stack of books she’d set on his desk. A thrill ran down her spine. Her words were now in his hands. “Summer’s been on my case about it since I mentioned you were an author—”
“You talk to your sister about me?” Which was ridiculous. Of course he did. She’d asked for the books. But there was something in the way he said it, as if they’d spoken a lot about her. Jenni had mentioned the same, hadn’t she?
“We’re twins,” he said, as though that explained it. Maybe it did. Indy was an only child. She had no idea.
“Sasha’s the closet thing I have to a sister.”
“So she rags on every bad decision you’ve ever made and sends you endless messages for no reason until you want to pull your hair out? But none of that matters because you’ll hurt anyone who hurts her?”
“Not so much the first one, but yeah, pretty much everything else.”
He snorted. “Lucky you.” Ethan cleared their empty containers and set them aside in a paper bag. “Summer was born screaming, and she hasn’t held back since,” he said. “It’s her best quality, but it left me in the middle of a lot of arguments between her and our mom. I think if I hadn’t gotten into teaching, I’d be a killer negotiator.”
“That must be why you’re so calm. Doesn’t anything make you angry?”
“Of course it does. I teach nine- and ten-year-olds. Have you ever met a ten-year-old?” he joked.
“Not since I was in school.”
“They’re a handful. But a good man told me a long time ago that letting anger direct you only means walking twice as far to get where you want to go.” With both hands planted on the surface of his desk, he leaned back against it. “What makes you angry?”
Too much that shouldn’t. Sometimes it felt like a swarm of wasps lurked between her shoulders. Her mind was ten tabs constantly open, with three videos on pause and the nagging feeling that she’d forgotten something important. There was no sense, no rhyme, no reason, only the rough seas of overlapping thoughts. Navigating it usually meant anchoring herself to the closest idea and following it through to its natural end unless she jumped ship and distracted herself with something else.
It was impostor syndrome and social anxiety to a degree that often rendered her immobile. Honestly, she was shocked she could even form words in front of Ethan, because usually people like him— confident, charming men especially— sent her running.
“Lots of things.” Indy shrugged. “Is it true that twins have a sixth sense?”
“No, thank god. But we balance each other out. She’s heart; I’m sense. She’s the sails, and I’m the anchor.”
Well, fuck. Gorgeous, compassionate, and a poet?
The universe was absolutely fucking with her.
If that was how he spoke about his sister, she could only imagine what he’d say to a lover.
But she sure as hell wanted to find out.
The air turned warm as Ethan leaned closer. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipping out on that answer before.”
