Protecting Mr. Fine (The Billionaire Brotherhood, #4)

by Lucy Lennox

“I won’t be able to see it.” “That’s probably for the best. I’m shit at drawing,” I admitted. When I was done, he asked again. I took his phone and snapped a picture of the drawing before handing the phone back. Zane blinked at the screen. “A… saw blade?” “It’s a sun,” I insisted. “I told you I sucked at drawing.” He tilted his head one way and then the other as he studied the photo. “Is it… an angry sun?” I turned to leave when the magical sound of Zane’s laughter hit the air between us.

Hee.

I thought about the spot on my shoulder, the faded target now hidden under what could only be described as a logo for a solar-powered anger management program.

He was also the best damned mandolin player I’d ever come across in all my years playing with professional musicians. I’d offered him a job playing with me more than once, and he refused every time. “I’m not much of a people person, Zane,” he’d said. “The thought of those crowds makes my stomach feel like it might sneak outta my ass without warning.”

made something inside of me tip off-center and thump around wildly like a washing machine with a broken belt.

Um. Wouldn't it quit moving altogether if the belt broke? Guess if it snapped in the spin cycle...

“Oh, Carrie-Beth said I might run into Sully Bynam and, if so, to be sure and ask to see his tulip poplars.” Shell overheard and snapped her head around. “Sully’s tulip poplars are a sight to behold. You’ve never seen golden beauties like those. A whole driveway full of ’em. It’s like… like something on TV.”

Tulip poplars: you can have all of the horrid things. They're too tall to see the flowers, and every fall they litter the ground with thousands of stabby seeds. Liriodendron (actually related to magnolias), are neither poplars nor tulips, and they suck ass.

To Zee, Do you like wearing my mark? I can get to you whenever I want. You’re not his to protect. Cut him loose. See you in New York. Semper in scopum.

K, what's the hidden meaning---scopum has no translation. Scopus, however, means aim, target, purpose, or goal

If the perp was smart enough to use Latin, they were probably smart enough to mask their virtual identity.

Ahem.. pretty sure the ability to use a bit of Latin (incorrectly spelled) does not equate to enough intelligence or tech savvy to hide one's virtual identity. Having the skill to hide your sender identity should be quite adequate to google the proper Latin for "always on target", however. This superlatively NON-tech-savvy old bat managed it all by herself.

Bears don’t take betrayal lightly. They have an uncanny sense of loyalty, and if you cross them, you’re done. In the wild, respect is a two-way street, honey is earned, not stolen, and a bear will make sure a betrayer doesn’t stick around for long. Mess with the honey and you’ll feel the claws. —Bear Facts for Insomniacs, Episode 34

🤔😫

“This isn’t downhill,” I reminded him. “It’s very different.” Zane’s phone dinged with a notification, and he grabbed it off the counter and unlocked it. “Yes,” he said distractedly. “Much more like running… which isn’t my favorite.” I took his phone from his hand and turned him back toward the mirror to finish getting ready. “You love running.” He pulled a face. “I love having run. Not the same thing.”

I sang with my whole heart. For men like Jude who’d waited a long time. For kids like Auden Salling who might never be able to come out. For women like Aria & Velvet who’d been out since the beginning but still struggled with prejudice and hate. For myself and all the times I’d felt like I wanted to help kids like me.

“I’m fine,” I said instead. Zane’s eyes flared. “Fine?” I clenched my jaw against the words that wanted to spill out. “Fine.”

Every time I see one of these "fine" "fine" "fine" conversations (this story, and others), I'm reminded of the scene in Pretty Woman, and always wonder if it's the inspiration for its appearance in these stories.