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I snort. “Usually when people say 'rigors,' they mean dilapidated outhouses and no hot water. I’ll manage. I don’t shop online that much anyway.”
“I hope that’s a promise,” he says cryptically.
I pause.
I don’t want to say it is.
Because there’s a lot more about this town that’s off than a few boring days and slow deliveries.
I push myself to ask, firming my voice, “I’ll think about it. But about the bracelet—”
“Did you like it?” he cuts in abruptly. “I thought rose gold might complement your olive skin.”
Holy hell.
My skin? What do I even say to that?
“Sure,” I manage, wrapping my arms up tight as I look outside and watch how the leaves shiver in the evening breeze. The soft twilight gloom turns everything a gentle blue. “I’m just kind of curious, why the Xs, after what happened at The Rookery?”
“What happened at The Rookery?” Ulysses sounds genuinely puzzled.
“You didn’t hear?”
“Believe it or not, sometimes our gossip mill has a limited altitude, lady. It occasionally loses steam without making it to the top of the hill.” He chuckles.
“Oh. Oh, right.” I chew the inside of my lower lip. “Well, when I was staying there, I saw someone outside my window. They spray-painted this huge red X just below it, then disappeared. It’s possible it’s my stalker ex from New York, but I... it almost felt like someone sending me a message. You really didn’t know?”
He inhales sharply.
“I wish like hell I had. Besides being insensitive and threatening, it’s downright tacky.” Ulysses growls with this rushed sincerity. “My deepest apologies, Miss Clarendon. I promise you I knew nothing, and I’m deeply sorry Redhaven has done its damnedest to make you feel uncomfortable. If you’d like, throw that nasty thing into a shredder and be done with it.”
“What? No!” I say quickly—but why? Why am I reluctant to get rid of it? I glance at the nightstand, where the little red box sits with the bracelet safely tucked inside. “Sorry, I just... I hate wasting things, Ulysses. I guess it’s a hazard of growing up without much stuff. So if you really didn’t mean anything by it—”
“Hand to God, I did not. Besides taking a clumsy stab at flirting, I guess.” He pauses. “The Xs were kisses, Miss Clarendon. You know, the X in XO, kisses and hugs?”
My face flames. “O-oh.”
“See? Clumsy as hell. Now I’ve gone and made you feel like shit.” Ulysses makes a self-deprecating sound. “Forgive me. I suppose I’m the stereotypical rich eccentric. Kisses aren’t meant to be so heavy. Hell, I still kiss my own mother on the cheek.”
“How European,” I point out.
“Exactly. We brought over some odd habits generations ago, and I suppose our international upbringing only makes it stick.” With a rattling chuckle, Ulysses sighs. “You should meet my brothers one day. They and my old man tease me constantly for talking about nothing but you. My father was happy to meet with you anyway, and my brothers will be home soon. There’ll be a big reunion party of sorts, as always when the family reunites. Why don’t you stop by then? Dress code optional. No one will judge you if you aren’t dripping Vera Wang.”
I smile crookedly.
“Pretty sure they’d judge me if I showed up in a ripped tank top and jeans. I really doubt I’d fit in with that crowd. Limousines and rich people? No way.”
“You can fit in wherever you desire. Status is so artificial,” he says flippantly.
Hmm.
“Maybe,” I bite off.
Truthfully, I’ve never liked getting dolled up and going fancy places like that, squeezed into a dress that’s cutting off my circulation and with my face feeling like a plaster mask. “Let me think about it, okay? I still have a mountain of work to do before the school year starts, and I don’t know what my workload will look like then. I might end up pulling an all-nighter cutting out cardboard stars.”
“No better way to spend an evening,” he mocks gently. “I’ll text you the details just in case you can grace us with your presence.”
“Oh, no. My presence is hardly a gift. But thanks for your gift, Ulysses. The desk, I mean. It makes me feel very... official.”
“So stern, Miss Clarendon. Will you take me across the knee with your ruler, next?”
“Ulysses!” I almost choke.
I was so not expecting that.
A wicked, husky laugh drifts over the phone. “No worries. I’ll be a perfect gentleman from here on out. Enjoy your evening, Miss Clarendon. Hope to hear from you soon!”
“Yeah,” I say faintly.
I’m a little surprised he’s the one to hang up first.
I’m also surprised by how fidgety I feel after that call.
Hugging my knees to my chest, I glance down at my toes and scrunch them against the coverlet.
I can’t stop frowning.
He talks to me like we’re old friends, and always with that superficial gloss of politeness.
