Page 7 of All's Fair in Love and Blackmail
“Flawless logic,” I say as I continue to watch India through the blinds. She pulls her hair away from her neck and into a ponytail, faster than I can follow. How do girls do stuff like that without everything getting tangled?
I glance over my shoulder at Cyrus and Poppy, both of whom are now watching me with raised brows. “So about India,” I say.
Something steely glints in Cyrus’s eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” he says.
“Yeah, I know,” I say distractedly as I peek out the window again. “But she’s—what, twenty-four? Twenty-five?”
“Stop it.” Cyrus crosses the living room and then the dining room in several long strides, pinching the blinds shut in front of my eyes and giving me a stony look. “Stop looking at her.”
“Just tell me how old she is,” I protest.
“No,” he says, and I’ve got about two inches on him in height, but when he’s wearing that facial expression, he seems to loom. “Whatever you’re thinking, just—don’t,” he goes on. “Forget she exists.”
I give up on the blinds and turn around, throwing a glance at Poppy, who mouthstwenty-sixat me and then snaps her mouth shut and smiles innocently at Cyrus as he looks back and forth between us.
Twenty-six. That would work. But would it be weird to enlist my best friend’s little sister for something like this?
“The thing is,” I begin, and Cyrus actuallygrowls.I ignore him. “If you don’t want to help me, Poppy, that’s fine. But I do need help from someone.”
“Do you really, though?” Poppy says. She’s not being sassy—the question is simply curious.
“Yes.” The word comes out a bit strained. “I need to find someone quick. A woman,” I add. “India might be a good fit. She’s someone I know?—”
“My sister—” Cyrus cuts in.
“Someone I have no romantic history with?—”
“You’dbetternot?—”
“Oh, calm down, you big grizzly bear,” Poppy says, swatting Cyrus lightly on the chest. “All joking aside, Felix isn’t that bad. He might be a bit of a flirt, but he’s a good guy. Aren’t you?” she adds, looking at me.
“Of course I am,” I say, a little annoyed she even has to ask. “And I don’t want todateher,” I go on. I run my fingers through my hair, a bad habit that comes out when I’m agitated. “I’m not interested in her romantically.”
“That’s the problem,” Cyrus says, throwing his hands up in the air. “If you came and told me you’d somehow fallen in love with my little sister and you wanted to marry her or something?—”
“Whoa,” I say as my eyes widen, because just the thought makes me anxious.
“Then I could deal with that,” Cyrus goes on. “We wouldn’t be friends if you were the kind of person who treated your girlfriends like garbage. But this stupidarticleyou’re writing—” He breaks off and shakes his head.
Ah. I see the problem.
“Nothing is going to happen,” I say. “The article is about all the romantic areas in and around Lucky. Checking them out isn’t going to magically make us fall in love.” I hold my hands up placatingly. “I’ll pick India’s brain and we’ll visit some of the lovey-dovey hot spots. Then I’ll write the article and be done with it.”
Because somehow I—a thirty-one-year-old journalist with no desire to fall in love—have found myself in charge of theLucky is for Loversfeature of the Four-Leaf Gazette.
I say “somehow,” but it’s because the article was my idea. I did try to subtly pass the project off to someone more suited, but Herb, the editor-in-chief, told me to do it. He wouldn’t budge. So I’m stuck doing this stuff—trying to find a local to help me hunt down some cool romantic spots to showcase.
“I don’t care,” Cyrus says, pulling me back to our debate. He flings the front door open and gestures at it, waiting for me to leave. “Don’t ask India.”
“Sorry,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder as I step out. “I’m probably going to.” I inhale deeply and then give him the most pressing reason I need his sister. “If I don’t choose someone myself, my boss is going to have my coworker Veronda do it with me instead.”
“Ver…ronda?” Poppy says, her nose wrinkling as she tests the name. She leans against the doorframe, her brow raised at me.
“I know,” I say with a sigh, feeling the breeze play against my skin. “It’s one word trying to be multiple words—Veronica, Rhonda, verandah.” I pause. “She’s nice, I guess, but she’s fifteen years my senior and she always has lipstick on her teeth and she’s been flirting with me enough that I’m uncomfortable. I don’t want to bring her along on this assignment.” I look back at Cyrus. “I’ll keep you updated either way.”
He mutters something unintelligible under his breath; I can’t make it out, but I feel safe in assuming it’s not flattering.
I just wave over my shoulder and head to my car.
