A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

bet you aced your test,” he says. “Which one was it again? The MCAT or the LSAT?” “It was the GRE. And I did well.” When he raises his eyebrows, I grin and drop my gaze to my hands. “Fine. I did ace it.” Which is good because those tests are not cheap, and I didn’t want to pay to take it again. “I knew you would.” He sounds almost proud, which makes me feel ridiculously happy. “You couldn’t know that. You barely know me.” “Or maybe I know you better than you think, smart girl.” Now, there’s a thought that just about breaks my brain. I’m always shocked Eli remembers or seems interested in any of my life’s details. He has a way of coaxing information out of me during his visits the way I coaxed Doris out of her kennel with soft words and a treat. I feel a sudden stab of guilt, realizing I don’t do the same for him. Not because I’m not interested. But it’s just hard for me. Even when he makes it look so easy. My shyness is a product of both nature and nurture. My parents were academics and researchers, Dad in literature and Mom in biochemistry. Both the very stereotype of the absent-minded professor, better with books and beakers than people. Though they absolutely adored me, their only and perhaps accidental daughter, my childhood was a little too quiet and solitary. They encouraged independent study, independent thinking, and just, well, being independent. The sad part is that I’ve always been drawn to people. I remember aching to have the kind of childhood I read about or ...