Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
“Did you say scary is scary?” Henri asked, drawing my attention back to him.
I nodded. “Yeah. It is.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment as he watched me from across the table. “What scares you?”
“Lots of things.”
“Like?” He drew the word out.
It was unnecessary how much pleasure this conversation was bringing me. I wanted to think it was mostly because this version of Henri Blackrock at forty-ish was someone new and unexpected, so different from the serious introvert that hadn’t exactly avoided responsibilities when he’d been a teenager but definitely hadn’t been an overprotective or overly affectionate person. He had always just… kind of been there, when he was around.
So maybe it was his growth that drew me to him the most, wanting to see just how much he’d changed over time. How he was a member of law enforcement who considered other people his responsibility, under his protection, with a visible soft spot for little kids. Who lowered his voice around skittish people. Who would comfort someone upset.
A man who was curious and had a sarcastic and funny streak in him too.
Buttttt I wasn’t going to overanalyze it or make more out of it than I needed to. Not in front of him, at least.
“Taxes,” I answered.
He leaned against the back of the bench.
“Late fees.”
The muscles in his right cheek twitched.
“Ticks.”
Was that really the start of a smile on his face?
I lifted a shoulder. “Mortgage interest rates?”
Yeah, it was.
“My credit score. That thing scares me too.”
It wasn’t just his cheeks giving him away, it was the glimmer in his eye, too. The crinkles at the corners of them. “Your score is good, but you should open another credit card.”
I dropped my voice. “You checked my credit?” I wasn’t mad about it, but… I hadn’t expected it… and how had he gotten my social?
“Had to. We can’t have bill collectors or the government poking around.” He looked so nonchalant. “The elders told you we would do a background check in the meeting—” Henri’s mouth slammed shut in the middle of his sentence. His head whipped to the side, to where there was a wall of windows between us and the parking lot.
I did the same, wondering what could make him react like that.
A man stood beside a truck parked a few spots down from mine, arms crossed over his chest, glaring in the direction of the building.
A slow, deep rush of breath left Henri’s lungs on an exhale right before he slid out of the booth. His expression and tone were icy when he met my eyes. “I’ll be back. Wait here.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he wanted backup, but this man was six foot six, close to three hundred pounds was my guess, and I wasn’t about to insult him.
Plus, I didn’t want to get involved in things unless I had to… or if he asked.
Now, if the man outside did something really stupid, that would change the situation, but in the meantime, I sat there and agreed.
I ceased to exist as he walked out, and I watched him cross the parking lot and come to a stop a few feet away from the stranger. The man was tall, but not on the same level as the one who had comforted me earlier.
Henri had sat there, held me to his shoulder, and cuddled me—his words, not mine.
Henri Blackrock had cuddled me.
And now he was out in the parking lot, in front of a silver truck with wide tires and shiny rims, arms loose at his sides as the blond stranger said something angrily, the muscles of his biceps and forearms bulging as he expressed himself. I couldn’t sense his magic from this far away.
But he was worked up about something. His face was turning red.
I set my hand down on the bench beside me, ready to start scooting out.
A plate stacked high with a three-layer sandwich and fries slid onto the table in front of me before a different meal was placed directly across from it. Phoebe stood there, her big brown eyes focused on the two men outside. Her lips were pursed.
I’d always known I had very little shame. “Do you know who that is?” I asked her.
I thought it said something that she glanced over her shoulder, toward her coworkers, before whispering, “Dominic.”
This was him? The guy that Henri had let punch him? I frowned and squinted out the window, finding them in the exact position they’d been in before. With Dominic prattling on, and Henri resembling a volcano about to erupt. I thought I could see a hint of a black eye….
I glanced back at her and frowned some more. She seemed concerned. “Do I need to go save Henri?” I whispered back.
Her eyes widened. “Save Henri?” She gave me a look that said she didn’t think I could save anyone. It was all pink cheeks and raised eyebrows. “No… I don’t think so.”