Cade Parkinson preferred his life in black and white. And when a spoiled heiress barged in and started spreading colors to it, he didn't like it one bit. He doesn't want anything to do with her. Even with his efforts of fending her off, she seems to...
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Kathie Jane
Remember the guy with whom I shared that one awkward incident? The one I wished would be in the furthest apartment from mine? Apparently, I walked under a ladder some time ago because I'm getting more bad luck these days. The guy lived just across the hall.
Great.
My heels clicked against the marbled floor of my new apartment building. My nephew holds my hand, happily bouncing on his feet.
"Hi, Kenny." I waved at the guy on the front desk whom I become friends with since I moved in days ago.
"Hi, Mr. Kenny," Ethan parroted.
He greeted us back.
"Can we eat pizza for dinner, Aunt Kathie? I promise I won't tell mommy."
"Sure. And since you're not telling your mommy, you want ice cream?"
"Yes, please." He leaped forward, looking up to me with delighted blue eyes. "And cookies?"
I laugh. "You can eat whatever you want."
Ethan gives me a toothy grin as we waited for the elevator clambering down the lobby. He hops in, clutching the strap of his backpack. "Daddy and I drew a birdhouse yesterday. I can't wait to show you. There are lots of rooms for more birds and they don't have to leave to look for food."
"That's fascinating, buddy." I ruffled his hair, pressing the floor to my apartment. He and his daddy has had this little project of making birdhouses.
The elevator doors opened. He races down the hall and I ran after him. The kid has a lot of energy in one small body. "If you trip and scrape your knee, your mommy is going to kill me." I hold his hand and pushed open the door to my new apartment.
He dashed to the living room and I stared at his back, completely giving up. I wince as I hear something toppling over. I shake my head, laughing.
"Aunt Kathie, can we watch zombies?" He calls out.
I sashayed toward the living room, pleased at the sight of my nephew cozied up on my couch. He sets aside his shoes and he's taken out the drawing he mentioned earlier from his backpack. "I'll get you some cookies." Dropping my purse on the sofa, I headed to the kitchen and kept glancing backward, hoping he doesn't break anything and end up cutting himself. "Baby, if something breaks, don't touch it, okay?"
I wandered inside the kitchen, a card on the counter drawing me in. My brows creased in confusion. Owen is not the type to leave handwritten notes around just to be romantic. He left his spare key with it too.
Odd.
I studied the note. Mildly intrigued when I realized it was really his handwriting. Then I realized, Owen wrote me a letter.
Very odd.
The first words of the letter had me alarmed. This is nothing like Owen – the handwritten note and leaving his key. With my hands shaking, I skimmed the entire content of the letter. My gut twisted in and out.
