Page 27 of The Summer Song

A tall man with a chiseled jaw, blond hair that was messy in all the right ways, and a suit that fit him like a glove, he carried a briefcase like some old-timey movie. He readjusted his tie. He was anything but old.

“Oh, hey, Brad. Thanks for swinging by,” Serena said. “Tillie, this is that accountant I was telling you about. The one they recommended at the office. He can help you get things organized and set up when it comes to your taxes and everything.”

I touched my ponytail, smoothing my hair down and wishing he wasn’t here in the middle of the painting scene. He reached out a hand to me, his smile wide and his teeth perfectly white. I reached out my hand to him, my stomach fluttering. But then he pulled away.

“Oh, right, sorry,” I said, realizing there was blue paint all over my hands. And then realizing there was paint in my hair where I’d smoothed it. “Sorry, sorry. I’m a mess.”

He glanced around, still smiling. “A beautiful one,” he said. I felt my cheeks warm. “The place, I mean. It’s messy right now, but a beautiful one. You’ve got something special here, Tillie, is it?”

I nodded. “Mathilda, but my friends call me Tillie.”

He stepped closer. “And what does your boyfriend call you?”

Confident, almost cocky. Flirtatious. I’d never been the center of attention of anyone like him. My cheeks were flaming red.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Good to know. Now, do you have somewhere we can talk about taxes?”

Flustered, I dropped the roller into the paint tray. “Um, there’s a little office in the back.”

“Have fun you two,” Serena shouted. I shot her a look, and she winked at me.

She’d told me an accountant was coming, but I’d pictured a stoic, graying man. Not...well, not whatever you wanted to call Brad. Gorgeous. Commanding in a good way. Perhaps trouble.

I showed him to the office, where I expected him to get out his briefcase and start going over boring paperwork.

“Can I take you out for dinner?” he asked once we were in the office. His hands were in his pockets, and he stood confidently, as if he knew the answer.

“I’ve been a little busy, so I don’t know if it’s a good time,” I answered, shrugging. A relationship, or even casual dating, was the last thing I had time for.

He took a few steps forward. “A girl’s gotta eat, right? We can make it a working dinner, talk about tax structure or something like that if you want.”

“Does anyone want that?” I asked, smiling.

He laughed. “Probably not. So just say ‘yes’ to dinner and save us both.”

“Yes,” I agreed, still studying him. My stomach fluttered as he looked into my eyes. He took a step forward, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me.

“Right, let’s get to these tax structures then so we can have pure fun later, Tillie.”

“Work hard, play hard,” I said, instantly regretting it because it sounded so cheesy.

“Exactly.”

He helped me get organized with bookkeeping and taxes, but to be honest, I didn’t pay much attention. The whole time, I was thinking about how I would be sitting across from the gorgeous guy on a date. Life was falling into place, and I couldn’t believe my luck.

Still, even then, my stomach kept fluttering the entire time I was near him. I thought it was passion, attraction, a sign he was the one.

Even then my intuition was trying to tell me what I would come to learn: Brad was the worst kind of trouble, and there was nothing lucky about us together. Nothing at all.

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