Thankfully his mother was at BOCES getting her certification to be an LPN, which gave her a decent enough job in this area. Just not enough to support four mouths.
His father? Warren wasn’t sure what the man was doing right now and didn’t care.
That man could go fuck himself and he’d make sure no one ever compared the two of them again.
1
A DEFINITE YES
Eighteen Years Later
“What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll take a number four on draft.”
Emma French moved over to the tap on a Friday night working the bar. The modern day Hulk in front of her was the type of guy she wanted to chat up while she was doing her research. Damn, this was going exactly as she’d hoped.
She pulled the draft on the beer and filled the glass the way she’d been shown two days ago when she’d trained.
Her cousin Hunter only laughed when she asked if she could work for a weekend to gather some information for her book. It was not the first time she’d done it at The Retreat that her family founded.
If her mother had been a man, her last name would be Bond and her brother, Roark, might own or run this hotel with her first cousin Hunter.
But her mother, Melissa, lucked out and didn’t have the stress or burden of carrying on the family name.
Her mother’s words, and ones that Emma agreed with.
She put the cold glass of beer on the mahogany bar and slid it to the tall built delicious-looking man who almost made her smack her lips.
Brown hair, dark eyes, and a smile that would melt a woman’s panties.
After a mental check between her legs, she was good, but might not be in five more minutes of conversation.
“What brings you to Amore Island?” she asked.
Thankfully she had a good memory because it wouldn’t be appropriate if she pulled her phone out to take notes like she often did when she ventured out of her house.
Research for a book always made her get out of her writing chair though.
“A quick vacation,” the man said.
He was giving her the once over that she’d bet he did to everyone he came in contact with.
With a cocky arrogant vibe as if she should be aware of his identity.
To her he was merely a guest in their family hotel.
A model for her next book...maybe. No maybe about it. That was a definite yes!
Right now, she just needed to get this stupid murder scene through her head of the next victim in her book.
A bartender.
To do that, she had to play the part so she could be on the other side of fear when it happened.
“It’s quiet here this time of year,” she said.
Mid-April in the Northeast could bring any kind of weather.
