Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
His brows rise. “Flight risk?”
“Yes. You don’t look like the type of guy who’s going to ghost.”
His brows frown. “I’m not going to ghost her.”
Blaire studies him for a long few seconds, then nods, satisfied. “Good answer.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur to him, color staining my cheeks as my friend grills him.
“For what?” he asks, stuffing both hands in his pockets, giving Blaire a wide berth to fuss and orbit around us.
“For…” What exactly am I apologizing for? Because my best friend is being protective ? That she has my best interests at heart and doesn’t want me to get burned? Am I embarrassed she’s loud and boisterous?
“I like her,” he says, and I’m not entirely sure if he’s being sincere.
Hard to say.
I give her a nudge toward the door. “Time for you to go.”
Having them both in the same room is stressing me out. Not that I didn’t want them to meet, but this spontaneous pop-in has my nerves pinging all over the place. One wrong word and I’m going to self-combust.
Blaire slips on her shoes at a glacial pace. “Text me when he leaves.”
“Oh my god.”
Aaron laughs quietly at my misery.
She straightens and waggles a warning finger at him. “I mean it. Don’t mess with her head.”
“I’m not,” he says levelly. “Scout’s honor.”
“Oh please.” She snorts. “We both know you didn’t have time for Boy Scouts.” She studies him again, then nods once. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”
Finally.
The door closes behind her, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Silence settles in.
Aaron shifts his weight, eyes scanning the space briefly before landing back on me. “She always like that?”
“That was her on her absolute best behavior,” I croak out. “Sorry, that was a lot.”
He nods like “that’s fair.”
“I didn’t mean to ambush you,” he says. “But tonight was rough and I know you bailed because that thing between your brother and I… don’t blame you for coming home.”
I drop my gaze to the floor, pressing my lips, hoping to contain my ridiculous smile as joy blossoms in my chest.
A pool of literal euphoria melting to the floor.
“Come in. Take your shoes off and get settled.”
He glances down at his sneakers like he needs the instruction repeated, then bends to untie them. The entire thing is domestic in a way that makes something inside me melt.
I melt further when he lines them up neatly by the door.
His eyes drift toward the coffee table.
The open pad thai containers.
Two sets of chopsticks.
The napkins.
He smirks. “Was I interrupting dinner?”
“You are not interrupting dinner,” I say quickly. “We were having girl talk about boys.”
“Any boys in particular?” He winks at me, sliding his hands around my waist and pulling me gently against him. Nuzzles my neck.
The scratch of his stubble sends a ripple straight down my spine.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. “Have you eaten?”
“I haven’t.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t feel like it.”
Because he came here instead.
“I have more than enough to feed you if you want something.”
He pulls back so he can see my face, the dimple in his cheek making him look younger and devilish as he grins down at me. “That’s a loaded sentence if I’ve ever heard one.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I meant noodles.”
“Noodles.” He nibbles at my ear. “Cookies. I’m no longer thinking about food.”
TWENTY-FOUR
AARON
Things with Declan are going from bad to worse, and tonight only fanned the flames.
He’s not subtle when he’s pissed—that’s something he and I have in common. But when it’s directed toward me and in full display of the fans, well… Now we officially have a fucking problem.
The locker room after the game felt thick. Guys pretending not to look. Pretending not to listen. Nobody wants to get between two players who hate each other’s guts, both for different reasons.
I’m not backing down, but I wasn’t looking for a war.
He crossed the line though when he went to his sister. I know what his intentions are: plant doubt so she’ll think I’m the problem.
That’s where he miscalculated.
She is putty in my hands—but she’s not stupid.
Seated on one side of her couch now, I reach for her foot without asking and place it gently into my lap. Pull off her sock. Start rubbing the heel with my thumb.
She moans, tipping her head back against the cushions. “That feels so good.”
I smirk faintly. “You have a long day, too?”
“You have no idea.”
Oh, but I do.
I press my thumb into the arch, firm but steady. She thaws almost instantly, shoulders dropping, tension bleeding out of her.
This is what we both needed.
“So, that was the infamous Blaire, hey?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her eyes are closed and her head remains tipped back. “She’s the best.”
I grunt and continue my task. “She do interrogations for a living?”
A laugh. “She wishes.”
I smile. “She doesn’t seem to miss much.”
“Nope. She’s been waiting to meet you.”
Not surprising. “Did I pass the inspection?”