The Bluff (Graham Brothers, #2)(102)

Winnie: You think I’m interested in making a new deal with you?

James: I’ve given you every reason NOT to be James: But I’d like to reopen negotiations Winnie: Ugh

Winnie: Fine. One question a day.

James: An hour

Winnie: What??????

James: One question per hour for twelve hours daily Winnie: You’re crap at negotiating.

James: Is that a yes?

Winnie: NO

James: Six questions per day

Winnie: Three

James: Done

James: First question. How do you like your eggs?

Winnie: THAT’S your question? EGGS?

James: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day James: And can also be had for dinner Winnie: I prefer my eggs (breakfast, lunch, or dinner) inside baked goods. Cakes, muffins, waffles, etc.

James: Noted. Have a good morning, Winchester.





James: What’s your favorite book Winnie: Good morning to you too.

James: Morning

Winnie: Not good? Just a morning James: Just a morning. What’s your favorite book?

Winnie: I have too many to list them.

James: Try me

Winnie: Okay. You asked for it …





James: Night owl or morning person Winnie: Hello to you too. I’m having a great day, thanks for asking.

James: Hi, temp

James: How’s your day?

Winnie: Thanks for the muffins! I assume those were from you?

James: You’re welcome

James: So night owl or morning person Winnie: Night owl. You’ve seen me in the mornings. I’m surprised you even asked.

James: You look beautiful in the mornings Winnie: Even before coffee?

James: Especially before coffee Winnie: Liar!

Winnie: I look like a troll’s ugly stepsister before coffee!

James: No

James: Before coffee, you look like the truest version of yourself. Fierce, strong, soft, real.

Winnie: I … thank you

Winnie: When is this apology happening? Just, you know, so I’m prepared.

James: Soon

James: But not soon enough





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN





Winnie



“He’s wooing you. You’re being wooed. Stop moping and enjoy it, chica.”

Val sounds distracted, or maybe even annoyed. She’s trying to finish the same painting that’s looked finished to me for a week. I’m slumped on my usual stool, whining about James, like I’ve also been doing for a week.

I guess I’d be annoyed with me, too. It’s been seven days since I walked out of the warehouse, sure the unofficial nonrelationship between James and me was over for good. It’s been six days since he started his texts and his barrage of questions. Five days since I started finding things like freshly baked chocolate chip muffins or the new novel by my favorite romance author on the porch.

I’m not sure which day I was ready to cave. Maybe … on the second day?

Look—I don’t want to complain about being wooed. Wooing is amazing. And the word is fun to say: woo, wooing, wooed, woos. Woo woo!

In all this time, though, I haven’t laid eyes on James Graham. And I miss the big hunk of grump. Badly. His growly voice and his intense eyes and the back and forth we have.

His near-constant daily texts are A-plus material. But they are no replacement for in-person banter.

“Would I be desperate if I—”

“Winnie, please!” Val spins around to face me, and I almost fall off my stool at her tone. “I love you. You know that I do. But I cannot work like this! You love James.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling tight. “I don’t love him. I just—”

“Fine! Don’t admit it’s love.” She throws up her hands. But since there’s a brush in one of them, it sends a splatter of paint across her cheek. She doesn’t seem to notice, and I won’t point it out. “Call it what you want. I’m calling it love. Because you are one lovesick woman, and I cannot listen to it for one more minute! Go to him and let him grovel. Wait for him to come and grovel. I do not care so long as there is groveling of some kind, an amazing kiss, and a happily ever after. But I have to get this painting done today, and you’re killing my vibe.”

For now, I’m ignoring most of what she said. Because I’m processing. There were a lot of big ideas in there.

Instead, I’m going to focus on what’s most interesting to me in an immediate sense.

“Why do you need to finish today? Are you finally going to talk to the new gallery owner?”

Val’s mouth clamps shut, and she turns back to the canvas. “I don’t know. Stop changing the subject.”

Touchy. So, maybe she is going to the owner of the new gallery setting up on Main Street. I saw the sign up the other day, though the windows were papered over so I couldn’t see inside. Not that I’ve been hanging around downtown, hoping for a glimpse of James. I totally was just visiting Lindy. Because that’s what friends do—they visit their friends.

Maybe excessively so, given the fact that Lindy finally passed me off to Val, who seems just as tired of my moping.

I’m about to say something else about the gallery, because I’d rather focus on anything other than James, when Lindy’s dogs start barking like mad. I hear the sound of tires crunching over gravel.