The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (15)

Out of her chair and toward several shelves the staff have set up, she searches for my packet and books. And the entire time, the chatterbox on my shoulders doesn’t stop moving her mouth.

“Do you know that man standing by the lady getting your books?”

“Yes.”

“Is he a teacher? He looks like a teacher.”

“Yes, he’s a teacher, Win.”

“What about him? The guy with the bright-red hair talking to that lady over there?”

“That’s Freddy Harrison.”

“Why aren’t you saying hi to him?”

“Because I don’t know him that well.” And because he’s an asshole.

“What about her, Remy? Do you know her?”

“Who?”

“That pretty girl over there.”

Pretty girl? Say what?

Instantly, I look up to meet Winnie’s eyes and then follow her little finger that’s stretched out toward the other end of the room.

Dressed in jean shorts and a tank top, my sister wasn’t wrong, the girl in question stands at another pickup table and is definitely pretty. Truthfully, she’s way more than just pretty. Long brown hair, tanned skin, and the kind of big, warm eyes that make guys like me stupid, she’s downright gorgeous.

And I’ve never met her before. Which is crazy because I pretty much know everyone who goes to Hidden Hills High.

Damn. Who is that? Is she new?

“Do you know her, Remy?”

“Nope.” But I certainly want to.

“I think she has a little sister like you do. See that girl with her? I bet that’s her sister.”

My observant baby sister doesn’t miss a beat. Standing right beside the mystery girl of my dreams is a shorter, younger version of her. She can’t be older than nine or ten.

Instantly, I get an idea.

“She looks like she’s close to your age, Win,” I comment. “You should go say hi.”

“Okay,” Miss Chatterbox responds like it’s completely normal to just walk up to random strangers and introduce yourself.

That’s Winnie, though. Never met a stranger in her life.

Frankly, it’s almost too easy.

I help Winnie off my shoulders and to her feet. And in a matter of two minutes, she’s already across the room, chatting up the two girls.

“Remy! Remy! Come over here!” Winnie shouts toward me as the nice lady with the Coke-bottle glasses is handing me my stack of books.

The beautiful mystery girl and her sister look in my direction, and I silently thank the Big Guy Upstairs for blessing me with the most talkative six-year-old in history as my sister.

I close the distance between us, and it’s no surprise that Winnie is the first one to speak when I come to a stop near their little group.

“This is him,” she says proudly. “My big brother Remington. But you can call him Remy. Everyone else does. Isn’t he handsome?”

I can’t deny that my baby sister is about the best wingman I’ve ever had. No way Flynn or Ty or Jude or any of my buddies could create an opening for me like Winnie just did.

A giggle leaves Mystery Girl’s lips, and I swear, it’s music to my ears.

“Hi,” I say with a knowing smile and hold out my hand. “I’m Remy Winslow. The handsome brother.”

She giggles again, and it makes a cute dimple appear at her right cheek.

Fuck. She’s beautiful.

“Hi. I’m Maria,” she responds and places her petite hand in mine. “Maria Baros.”

Maria.

Her hand is soft and warm against mine, and my nose catches just the hint of her sweet perfume. She smells like coconuts and summer and a girl I want to know.

“Nice to meet you, Maria,” I answer, and the way her name rolls off my tongue could easily become my next addiction. “And who is this?”

“Her name is Isabella,” Winnie answers for her, and I playfully nudge my baby sister in the side.

“If you haven’t noticed, Winnie here is incredibly chatty.”

Maria grins. “And adorable.”

“Remy, can I show Isabella the fountains we saw near the front door?” Winnie asks, completely oblivious to the conversation around her. “And I need two pennies to toss in it.”

“Sure, Win.” I take two pennies out of my pocket but pause before giving them to an impatient Winnie, who currently has two hands held out toward me. “But only if it’s okay with Maria.”

“Can I?” Isabella looks at her sister, and Maria shrugs.

“Sure. But stay together.”

I hand Winnie the two pennies, and she fist-pumps one tiny hand in the air. “C’mon, Isabella! Let’s go make a wish!”

And then Maria and I are left alone, both of our sisters running toward the entrance doors of the building where the not-all-that-exciting fountain sits.

“Are you new—”

“Do you—”

We both start to talk at the same time, and a blush forms on Maria’s cheeks.

“Sorry. What were you going to say?”

“It’s fine,” I respond with a smile that’s probably too big for the occasion. “Are you new here?”

She nods. “Freshman.”

“That’s cool.”