Read Online Suddenly in Love (Lake Haven#1) by Julia London - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julia London
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determined to die on Juneberry Road?
“Honestly, I don’t know why I am putting up with this,” he said. “The last thing I need is to be driving Miss Mia across town.” He jerked the wheel around the curves. “Why don’t you have a car, anyway? If you’re going to live and work in East Beach, you’re just going to have to get a car. It makes absolutely no sense that you’re working up here. It’s not like you know anything,” Wallace continued ranting. “But try telling that to Beverly. I swear if that woman listened to one word I said, she’d double her revenue, but no. She brings you in and you’re completely useless.”
“Hey, I’m not completely useless,” Mia said breezily. In spite of all his bluster, Wallace couldn’t get to her—she found him quite amusing. “I bring you coffee, don’t I? And I can measure a room as well as any trained monkey.”
“Oh, you’re useless,” Wallace reaffirmed. “I know what you think, toots. You think you’re going to grind out the summer, then go back to the city,” he said, fluttering his fingers at her. “And in the meantime, I have to put up with you, and then I’ll probably have to clean up your messes when you’re gone. The least you can do is get a fucking car .”
This was exactly the reason why Mia didn’t feel very awful for poking Wallace when she could. Like right now. “I don’t believe in cars.” That was not even remotely true. Mia had exactly zero emotions surrounding cars.
“What?” Wallace peered at her through his Dolce & Gabbana tortoiseshell frames. He was wearing a Ralph Lauren button-down shirt and coordinating crewneck sweater, 7 For All Mankind skinny jeans, and Rocket Dog sneakers. The man was into labels. “What do you mean you don’t believe in cars ?” he demanded irritably. “What does that even mean ? What do you believe in, a horse and buggy?”
“Emissions are dangerous and destroying our environment,” she said gravely.
“Oh, of course, the emissions !” Wallace said grandly with a roll of his eyes. “That’s right, no one likes emissions until they need to be somewhere, and then suddenly, emissions are okay, aren’t they?”
Mia looked out the passenger window and bit her lip to keep from smiling. It was almost as if he wore a big, red Alice-in-Wonderland-type button on his chest that said Push Me . “ Someone has to care.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d care about the clothes you have on. That is the most disturbing conglomeration of fabrics I have ever seen in my life . I assume you made it,” he said with a sniff. “I’m sure you think it’s high-concept art that none of us mere mortals can grasp, but that my dear, is a disaster .”
Mia glanced down at her leather and red brocade skirt. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did make this. And I designed the brocade. See the floral pattern?” she asked, pointing out a panel in the skirt. “If you like, I could make you some pants from this.”
Wallace snorted. “Stick to painting.”
Wallace knew very well that Mia wanted nothing more than to stick to painting and to “high art,” but had failed miserably at it. So now, she’d have to make him some pants, if for no other reason than spite.
“In the meantime, what are you going to do about getting to work every day? Or am I to assume that this morning jaunt is going to continue into infinity?”
“I could walk,” she said helpfully, but Wallace looked almost alarmed by that.
“Walk?” he echoed in disbelief, as if the concept was foreign to him. “What, you’re going to walk three miles all uphill in your strange little frocks?”
“Why not?” Mia asked with a shrug. “At least I won’t have to listen to you, and you won’t have to be annoyed by my breathing the same air.”
“Your breathing is not what annoys me,” Wallace corrected her. “Walking. Well that’s great advertisement. John Beverly Home Interiors—walking uphill to you on a steamy summer
“Honestly, I don’t know why I am putting up with this,” he said. “The last thing I need is to be driving Miss Mia across town.” He jerked the wheel around the curves. “Why don’t you have a car, anyway? If you’re going to live and work in East Beach, you’re just going to have to get a car. It makes absolutely no sense that you’re working up here. It’s not like you know anything,” Wallace continued ranting. “But try telling that to Beverly. I swear if that woman listened to one word I said, she’d double her revenue, but no. She brings you in and you’re completely useless.”
“Hey, I’m not completely useless,” Mia said breezily. In spite of all his bluster, Wallace couldn’t get to her—she found him quite amusing. “I bring you coffee, don’t I? And I can measure a room as well as any trained monkey.”
“Oh, you’re useless,” Wallace reaffirmed. “I know what you think, toots. You think you’re going to grind out the summer, then go back to the city,” he said, fluttering his fingers at her. “And in the meantime, I have to put up with you, and then I’ll probably have to clean up your messes when you’re gone. The least you can do is get a fucking car .”
This was exactly the reason why Mia didn’t feel very awful for poking Wallace when she could. Like right now. “I don’t believe in cars.” That was not even remotely true. Mia had exactly zero emotions surrounding cars.
“What?” Wallace peered at her through his Dolce & Gabbana tortoiseshell frames. He was wearing a Ralph Lauren button-down shirt and coordinating crewneck sweater, 7 For All Mankind skinny jeans, and Rocket Dog sneakers. The man was into labels. “What do you mean you don’t believe in cars ?” he demanded irritably. “What does that even mean ? What do you believe in, a horse and buggy?”
“Emissions are dangerous and destroying our environment,” she said gravely.
“Oh, of course, the emissions !” Wallace said grandly with a roll of his eyes. “That’s right, no one likes emissions until they need to be somewhere, and then suddenly, emissions are okay, aren’t they?”
Mia looked out the passenger window and bit her lip to keep from smiling. It was almost as if he wore a big, red Alice-in-Wonderland-type button on his chest that said Push Me . “ Someone has to care.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d care about the clothes you have on. That is the most disturbing conglomeration of fabrics I have ever seen in my life . I assume you made it,” he said with a sniff. “I’m sure you think it’s high-concept art that none of us mere mortals can grasp, but that my dear, is a disaster .”
Mia glanced down at her leather and red brocade skirt. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did make this. And I designed the brocade. See the floral pattern?” she asked, pointing out a panel in the skirt. “If you like, I could make you some pants from this.”
Wallace snorted. “Stick to painting.”
Wallace knew very well that Mia wanted nothing more than to stick to painting and to “high art,” but had failed miserably at it. So now, she’d have to make him some pants, if for no other reason than spite.
“In the meantime, what are you going to do about getting to work every day? Or am I to assume that this morning jaunt is going to continue into infinity?”
“I could walk,” she said helpfully, but Wallace looked almost alarmed by that.
“Walk?” he echoed in disbelief, as if the concept was foreign to him. “What, you’re going to walk three miles all uphill in your strange little frocks?”
“Why not?” Mia asked with a shrug. “At least I won’t have to listen to you, and you won’t have to be annoyed by my breathing the same air.”
“Your breathing is not what annoys me,” Wallace corrected her. “Walking. Well that’s great advertisement. John Beverly Home Interiors—walking uphill to you on a steamy summer
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