Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“No kidding.” He flips a page. “Even though I know damn well there’s never been an asylum in the town, this is so detailed I’m starting to question my own knowledge of the Hollow.”
“Good.” Lucy giggle-snorts. “Make sure you sell it to the tourists, so they don’t want to stick around after the show.”
“Got that right,” Declan mutters.
Is that how they think of me? A pesky tourist who’s worn out her welcome?
No. Lucy might, but Declan doesn’t. Right?
I clear my throat and lightly knock on the doorframe.
“Look who it is,” Lucy says. “Our mysterious, curious crow.” Her tone’s flat. I can’t tell if she’s teasing me or annoyed I’m intruding.
“Not that mysterious but definitely curious,” I joke.
Declan’s gaze roams over me, a slow, appreciative smile spreading over his face. Our eyes meet and I swear a jolt of electricity rocks me down to my toes. “Give us a minute, Lucy,” he says without taking his eyes off me.
“Cute dress,” she says as she brushes past me.
“Thanks.”
She closes the door behind her and Declan steps closer. I meet him halfway.
He rests his hands on my hips. “You were wearing that the day we met.”
Heat floods my cheeks. He remembers my dress? “I, uh, it’s the only thing I had that felt costume-y for tonight.”
“I like it.” His brows pinch together. “You said you were going to wear pants, though. Will you be warm enough tonight?”
I rub my hands over my thighs. “My tights are lined with fleece. They’re pretty warm.”
As his gaze follows the path of my hands, he bites his bottom lip. “I’ll do my best not to stare at your legs all night.”
“Oh, so you’re a leg man too?”
He snorts and shakes his head. “I told you, I’m an Emery man. All of your parts are lovely, but I like the whole package.” He circles his hand in front of my face.
I reach out and grab his wrist, tugging hard—not that I could move him even if I used every ounce of my strength. “Prove it.”
Laughing, he picks me up and smashes his lips against mine. The sheaf of papers in his hand rustles at my back as he presses me against the door. I lean in, kissing him just as hard.
A warm and probably foolish delight spreads through my chest. It’s dangerous to get too attached to this man.
But I keep kissing him anyway.
Knuckles rap on the door. “It’s time, Declan!” Lucy shouts.
He sighs and slowly lowers me until my feet touch the floor. “I’m never excited about doing this, but even more so this year.” He lifts my arm, pushing my sleeve up to inspect the green mark.
“No glowing or shimmering,” I report. “It’s been surprisingly quiet this afternoon.”
His frown deepens. “Interesting.”
“Good interesting, or bad interesting?”
“I’m not sure.” He shifts his gaze to the door, but his thoughts seem farther away. “You’ll be with me. Surrounded by people tonight. He wouldn’t dare,” Declan mutters.
“He? Oh, the Rider. Gotcha.”
“You’re still wearing your pendant?”
I tap my fingers over the iron key nestled against my chest under the high-necked dress. “Yup.”
“Okay.” He hands me the papers and opens the door.
I glance at the first page. It seems to be a script. Notes scribbled in the margins, lines highlighted. “Is this…for the Slayride?”
“Yes.” He groans and shrugs. “I have the basics down. Baxter will have to be satisfied with that.”
“What if they replace you with someone who follows the script?” I wave it in front of him.
“Fine by me.” He takes my hand and leads me into the front room of the shop.
“Oh, good. You’re both still dressed.” Lucy blows out an exaggerated sigh of relief and flicks her gaze to the ceiling. “Praise Lillith.”
I slap my hand over my mouth and smother the laughter threatening to break free.
Declan side-eyes me. “Don’t encourage her.”
“Settle down, Big D. You know my special brand of humor can’t be contained.”
“I’m aware,” he groans.
Lucy grins and grabs her coat from behind the front desk. She shrugs into the oversize puffy jacket and zips it to her chin. “Let’s ride!”
Declan grabs a black wool coat from a rack by the door and shrugs it on, then pulls a wool golfing-style cap on his head.
“Very dapper, Mr. Sterling,” I say in a low tone.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Thank you.”
“Oh, Lordy,” Lucy mutters and rolls her eyes, then swings the door open and gestures grandly toward the street. “After you, fearless leader.”
Declan mutters something under his breath and steps out first, tugging his coat closed against the cold. I follow, the night air biting at my cheeks immediately. The street’s brighter than it was earlier—string lights overhead, storefronts glowing, people bundled up and drifting toward the town square in loose clusters.
Lucy locks the shop and turns toward us. “Okay,” she says, falling into step beside Declan. “Have you decided how you’re opening?”