“Not Nora Bates? She’s my roommate.”
This just keeps getting better and better.
“Maybe,” Callie says. “I don’t know her last name.”
“Blond? Very bubbly?”
“That’s her,” Callie says dryly.
“Déjà vu,” I say softly.
“Excuse me?” Sadie says.
“Nothing. Where are you from, Sadie?”
“A suburb of Denver. Broomfield. I did two years of community college, and I have an associate’s degree in hospitality.”
She’s young, then. Younger than both Callie and me. Possibly even younger than Maddie.
A perfect age for…
Brock.
“How old are you?” Callie asks.
Nicely done, Cal.
“I’m twenty-four. How old are you?”
Twenty-four. Older than I pegged her for. In fact…she’s Brock’s exact age.
“Twenty-six. I’m starting law school in January.”
“That’s wonderful! And you?” Sadie says to me.
She’s asking me for my age, which I’m not ashamed of, except that I’m four years older than Brock, who she clearly has her sights set on.
“I teach music here in town,” I say, deliberately dodging the age question. “Piano and voice.”
“Wonderful,” she says.
Right. Wonderful.
“So tell me all you know about the Steel family,” Sadie gushes. “I met one of them the other night, when we met at the bar.”
“Right,” I say. “Brock Steel.”
“He’s positively delicious. A great pool player too.”
“All the Steels are good at pool,” Callie says.
“Are they? They must be good at everything.”
“Callie is engaged to a Steel,” I say.
“You are? Oh my God, which one?”
“Donny. Donovan.” Callie waves her left hand.