The Benningtons were old money—way old—and the banker thing implied there would be an expensive suit and a fancy car. Right there was the first glitch. Because in that little bookstore, he’d been sporting cargo shorts and a T-shirt. His hair, while only a couple inches long, was unkempt, and he was far from clean-shaven. Nothing about him screamed old money. Then, yeah, his looks. Goddamn, I hadn’t considered that, ’cause why would I? Why would I head down to California and wonder if my brother’s best friend’s uncle was handsome to the point where I kind of wanted to come in my jeans?
