Call You Mine (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #4) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,46

I haven’t. We can’t pay anyone for their services. I’ll find a way. I promise.”

“You should definitely ask Grace,” I encourage him. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be able to do it.”

And with that, I’ve just made them think that getting Grace to help is their idea. They also agree to the concerts since I agree to have up to twenty dates outside the state. My brothers are so easy.

Chapter Nineteen

Grace

I’m a geek.

I like to research and know everything there is about a subject or a product before I try it. I’m one of those people who reads the instruction manual right after I open the box. Unlike Beacon, who will open the box and touch everything before he even asks, “What the fuck is this for?”

My tablet’s memory reached its limit a couple of days ago. I had no idea it was possible until I filled it with books about flirting, sexology, and finding love.

The book I’m currently reading mentions that learning the language of love is as easy as learning how to speak. Language comes effortlessly for some. It does for me. I speak four languages—five if I count music. Still, love isn’t something that’s happened to me, unless it slapped me in the face and I didn’t notice.

Does having a crush on Beacon when I was sixteen count?

Stop lying to yourself. It wasn’t just a crush.

I keep thinking about the kisses he gave me the last time I saw him.

Do I regret not going all the way with him?

A little. I can still feel his hands running along my back, burning every inch of my body. The touch of his lips grazing my skin. I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. The next time I might beg him to take me.

Why did he stop us?

I shake my head, fighting the memories of the most exquisite kisses I’ve ever had in my entire life. My focus should be on these books, not that I can pay much attention to them. It’s hard. They make no sense to me. It’s either the brain fog or the ridiculous analogies.

Saying that learning to flirt and fall in love is like a child learning how to talk sounds a bit weird. They need to reword everything.

Maybe I’m taking things too literally.

If I could fall in love as easily as I can speak other languages, my life would be different.

I spoke and understood Japanese and English by the age of three. Since I can remember, Dad spoke to me in Japanese while Mom and the rest of the family talked to me in English. My paternal grandmother is second generation Japanese-American.

I also know French, Spanish, and music. The latter is a universal language.

Should I have started flirting with guys at twelve like most of my peers? No, I was a freshman in high school, and everyone thought I was weird. Thankfully, I was in the same grade as Beacon, Lang, San, Mane, and Fish. They made that stage of my life a lot easier.

Is Beacon right? Should we start dating and everything else will come easily?

Then what can I get from all the books, magazines, and articles I’ve been reading, not that I can follow them. I can’t see myself wearing a provocative outfit to allure my “desirable objective”—that’s how one of the books I’m reading refers to the person we’re trying to charm.

It’s winter. I need thick jackets, baggy sweaters, and leggings to keep me warm. And most of all, I’ll never give up my knee-high socks and combat boots, unless I’m undercover or at a concert. I dress to express myself and feel comfortable, not to attract the opposite sex, as described in the book, How to Flirt your Way into the World of Love.

That’s a long title fitting for a book filled with nonsense. At least, it’s nonsense to me.

If this was a class, I’d fail. My first F. Unbelievable. I just don’t understand how else to do this. Beacon said flirting is like music. I don’t see any similarities. There’s no rhythm or rhyme to the nonsense I’m reading.

This is a lost cause. I turn off my tablet and move my attention to my computer. I have to check on the house I rented in Baker’s Creek. It’s close to the Aldridge mansion and far enough from Tucker’s place. I adore my cousin, but he can get too overprotective. Cue on the too overprotective. He’s just like Dad. I feel for Mae, his daughter. She will