Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
He shrugs. “Just trying to impress the right person.”
And just like that, I forget how breathing works. He’s probably talking about his mother, but…
We get all the plates scraped off and the dishwasher loaded while Star sets the table with dessert plates and coffee cups.
Savannah starts the coffee brewing.
Hawk and I move around each other like we’ve done this a hundred times—scraping plates, stacking them, sliding silverware into the basket. My fingers brush his once, and it’s like touching a live wire.
I pretend to focus on wiping the counter.
My heart is pumping wildly as we return to the dining room where Savannah fills everyone’s coffee cups and Star serves the tres leches cake. The scent of sweet cream and coffee fills the air, but all I can feel is the electricity still humming between me and Hawk.
Belinda is sitting quietly at the corner of the table, her big eyes watching everyone with that soft curiosity she always carries. She tugs gently on my sleeve as I pass her a slice of cake.
“You look…smiley,” she whispers.
I crouch down beside her for a second, whispering back, “I’m just excited to try Savannah’s cake.”
Belinda smiles shyly. “I think Hawk’s nice. He looked at you like you’re the dessert.”
Before I can respond, Vinnie walks by with his coffee, raising a brow.
Then Eagle leans back in his chair and gives me a look. Calculated. Calm. “You know what they say about kitchens,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Do I?”
“They get hot. Fast.” He sips his coffee.
I let out a nervous giggle.
Eagle is flirting with me.
Eagle.
Eagle, who I’ve never said more than two words to.
He’s gorgeous, of course. All the Bellamy men are, but Hawk…
Hawk is the one who makes my pulse race, makes my blood boil, makes me wish I were pure again. Wish I were good enough for a man like him.
But I’m not.
And I never will be.
13
HAWK
What the actual fuck?
I see it the moment Eagle leans back in his chair, all smug and still like he’s not poking a bear. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing with that calm little line about kitchens getting hot.
He knows. He knows exactly.
He’s teasing Daniela.
Daniela. How much does he even know about her?
The only woman Eagle’s ever been serious about—if you can even call it that—is Scarlett Ramsey. He flirts with everything that walks, talks, or even glances twice at him. Usually I don’t give a shit. His trail of half-broken hearts is his problem.
But tonight?
Daniela…
I grip my coffee cup tighter, jaw clenching like I’m chewing on gravel.
Daniela laughs, and it cuts deeper than it should. Not because she’s done anything wrong—she hasn’t; she’s just being polite—but because she’s flirting. Sort of. With Eagle.
He does this.
Always has.
Shows up late, says almost nothing, and somehow still manages to take up all the oxygen in the room. He makes silence feel like dominance, like he knows something you don’t.
And I do know.
I know everything about Eagle.
Every bruise he ever got and every lie he ever told. Every trick he pulled. Every girl he strung along. Every time he burned something down just to prove he could rise from the ashes.
Every dirty needle he’s stuck into his own skin, every empty pill bottle with someone else’s name on it I’ve found in his medicine cabinet.
I’ve seen him broken and feral. I’ve seen him smile while bleeding. I’ve seen him walk away from people who would’ve walked through fire for him.
People have walked through fire for him. Falcon went to prison for eight goddamned years because of him.
And Eagle better fucking remember that.
I glance at him across the table. That unreadable mask on his face. Still. Cool. Watching Daniela like she’s a chess piece and he’s trying to figure out if she’s the queen or the pawn.
My pulse hammers in my ears.
I don’t like how close he’s sitting. I don’t like how she blushed. And I sure as hell don’t like the idea of him making a game out of her.
She’s not some puzzle to crack or a distraction to fill the time between his self-sabotage spirals.
She’s real. Smart. Funny. She laughs with her whole body and makes a meal feel like a love letter.
She’s warm.
He’s ice.
And now he’s circling, like the eagle he is getting ready to swoop down onto his prey.
I push my chair back. Not enough to make a scene—just enough for the chair to scrape loud against the wood, enough to make Eagle’s head turn.
There it is. That flicker of something in his eyes.
Recognition.
Challenge accepted.
I lean forward, elbows on the table, eyes locked on his.
The room hushes, tension like static crawling across everyone’s skin.
Except they have no idea. Mom continues slicing cake. Savannah continues serving coffee. Vinnie is squeezing Raven’s hand as she sips her Orange Crush.
Eagle takes a sip of his coffee, slow and deliberate. He’s enjoying this.