Page 9 of Hang the Moon
“Greek.”
“You were born in Greece, right?”
She was surprised he remembered that. “Yeah. My dad is from Thessaloniki and was working at the consulate, and my mom was a translator for the US embassy in Greece. That’s how they met.” They hadn’t moved to the States until she was seven, at which point she was fluent in both English and Greek.
“I’m fluent in French. I know enough Italian to embarrass myself, apparently; enough German to order food or get a cab that will take me to the right place eighty percent of the time;and”—she smirked—“thanks to Duolingo, I can even say a few words in High Valyrian.”
He grinned and lifted a hand to his chest. “Be still my heart.”
“I figured you’d get a kick out of that.”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “Are you calling me a nerd, Annie?”
She shut one eye. “If it walks like a duck...”
He barked out a surprised laugh and threw his napkin at her across the table. It missed her wineglass by a narrow margin and she had a startling flashback to Darcy’s first disaster date with Elle, wherein Elle had toppled over two glasses of wine into Darcy’s lap.
Brendon blanched, likely thinking the same thing. “That could’ve been bad.”
She balled up the napkin and hurled it back at him, laughing when his eyes widened. “Lucky for you, I’m not attached to this blouse.”
His eyes dipped before darting back to her face, the tips of his ears turning adorably pink once more. “It’s a nice blouse.”
His teeth sank into his bottom lip, a smile flirting at the edges of his mouth. On anyone else, that smile would’ve been dangerous. The sort of smile that got Annie to do ill-advised acts after a first date. But this wasn’t a date and this was Brendon, her best friend’s baby brother. He was harmless.
“Thanks.”
His tongue slipped out, wetting the lip he’d trapped between his teeth, and a tiny flicker of heat flared to life in her stomach. She cleared her throat and took a sip of water.Totallyharmless.
“Getting to travel for work, this must be your dream job.”
She snorted into her glass. “Is HRanyone’sdream job?”
It took his frowning for her to realize how awful that sounded.
“I’m really good at what I do, don’t get me wrong. I like visiting new places and I love languages. But most of what I see is the inside of boardrooms and hotels, and even though they considered my being multilingual an asset, most business is conducted in English.”
Reality had fallen short of her expectations. Story of her life. Sometimes her job was a bit of a soul-suck, but it paid her bills. She had no business complaining.
She gave a sharp shake of her head and pasted on a smile. “We’ve spent practically the whole time talking about me.”
He leaned a little further over the edge of the table, his shoulders bunching. His smile was puzzled. “I’m not complaining.”
Not yet, maybe. “Speaking of dream jobs.” She stared pointedly at him.
“Me?” He laughed and slumped back in his chair. “Oh, no. This isn’t my dream job.”
Her brows rose. “It isn’t?”
“No. I had much higher aspirations,” he said, face solemn.
“Higher aspirations than creating a successful dating app? Owning a company?”
He looked over his shoulder, then leaned forward and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I wanted to be Hugh Grant.”
She blinked. “Hugh—Hugh Grant.”
He hummed and the corner of his mouth twitched.
