Page 1 of Priceless
CHAPTER ONE
Vonnie poked her purple-haired head inside the office door. “What are ye doin’ playin’ on that thing? It’s a rare early night. We’re all locked up. Go to bed. Any bed.”
Jacob waved her away.
She ignored him. “Ye’re toyin’ on yer computer? When I didnae see ye, I reckoned maybe ye’d taken up Cora Woodbrey’s offer and walked her home?—"
“Bite yer tongue.”
She snorted. “I didnae say I was happy about it. Sure, I would have lost a bit of respect for ye, but?—”
“Get out.”
Still, she wouldn’t leave him in peace. “What are ye doin, then? Have ye joined one of those chat rooms for the rheumy set?”
Jacob shook his head, wishing she didn’t know him so well. “Just a wee game to relax, then I’ll go up.”
His quarters were above the pub. Never needed more space than that, though he could have wished for higher ceilings. Two hundred years ago, no one anticipated a Scot measuring as tallas he. And sometimes he envied his good friend, Wallace, for being more…compact.
Vonnie gave up her teasing, wished him a fair night, and left him in peace. He just wanted to check that AI-assisted chatroom before calling it a day. Lately, he’d wanted a conversation with someone he didn’t spend every waking moment with, someone who wouldn’t anticipate every word he might say before they ever left his mouth. Someone whose thoughts he couldn’t read in return.
Was a bit of surprise too much to ask for?
He and his staff simply knew each other too well. Why any one of them bothered to speak aloud was beyond him. And his patrons were nearly as easy to read. The only mystery in his life was which one would be the next to pick a fight. Connall McIntosh was overdue. If Jacob were still a betting man, he’d place his money there.
The chatroom was quiet. A Friday night. Likely, folks had better things to do.
A box popped up. Someone else was up at two o’clock. But he wouldn’t be the first to speak. He’d wait and see what they were about, then slip out the back door, as it were, if they weren’t interesting.
The AI asked if he’d consider the chat.
Do you need help getting started?
No, he didn’t need help getting started, and he cursed the program for its interfering nature.
Three wee dots danced. The mild rush of anticipation caused by that dance was more excitement than he’d felt all day.
Please be interesting!
A sentence popped up all at a go. “This is it, Universe. My one cry for help. Don’t blow it.”
How could he possibly resist that?
The house was so freakingquiet.
My sister, Raina, told me I should keep music playing in the background, no matter what I was doing, but that just seemed…wrong. The Universe might be gearing up to reveal something, and if I wasn’t listening, if that music was too loud or too distracting, I might miss it.
I didn’t have to check the calendar to know it had been seven months, to the day, of Paul’s funeral. And if I really thought about it, which I did, I should probably give up—if God or the Universe had something to tell me, they would have done it by now.
My purse sat on the counter in the kitchen. Inside, there was a business card my sister had foisted on me before she left to do a job in Egypt. A scrap I’d intended to toss out but hadn’t. I’d wasted a lot of time contemplating that white square, laughing at Raina, thinking she was a nutcase.
If I did what she’d suggested, it would mean I was a nutcase too.
“No one is watching,”that voice in my head said.“No one will know. A nutcase diagnosis can wait until later. Get it!”
I grabbed my purse and went back to my chair, dug out the card, and read the logo on the front.Bee Naked—your man won’t mind.
“Nice and subtle.”
