Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Conversation flows easily as we trade memories and laugh over ridiculous moments from college, slipping into a rhythm that feels effortless.
Familiar.
My hand finds the back of Lilah’s chair, and when my fingers brush her shoulder, she doesn’t flinch or pull away.
That simple touch anchors me.
It always has.
And I’m pretty sure it does the same for her.
She laughs at one of Bridger’s stories, the sound carefree as her eyes crinkle with humor. That’s all it takes for something inside me to twist. I want to be the reason she smiles like that.
Every damn day.
More than that, I want to erase every memory of Devon fucking Peterson for making her feel like she wasn’t enough.
Because the truth?
She was always way too good for him.
And the fact that she questions her own worth because that asshole couldn’t keep his dick in his pants?
I’d like to find him and make sure he knows exactly what he lost.
For now, I’m content to just sit beside her, our shoulders brushing, my fingers tracing circles across her skin as I watch her come back to life. I hope like hell I’m the one she chooses when she’s ready to let someone in.
I’m not sure she even realizes the way she leans into my touch as the four of us continue talking.
But I sure as hell do.
When it comes to her, I notice every little detail.
“I need to use the restroom,” Holland says, rising from her chair with a mischievous smile. Her gaze slides to Lilah. “Want to join me? That way I can grill you in private about your current living situation.”
The corners of Lilah’s lips lift. “Is that really necessary?”
Holland’s already turning toward the restaurant. “Oh, you bet it is.”
Lilah groans before standing and smoothing her dress as she follows. I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring until Bridger lets out a low, amused chuckle.
“Good to know nothing’s changed on that front,” he says, swirling his whiskey like the smug bastard he is.
I drag my gaze away from the door. “What front?”
He snorts. “When are you finally going to man up and tell Lilah how you feel?”
My fingers tighten around my bottle. “I’m working on it.”
“Working on it?” He laughs. “Dude, this has been going on since college. At the rate you’re moving, you’ll be in a retirement home by the time she figures it out.”
I take a pull from my beer, ignoring the heat that creeps up my neck.
Bridger leans back in his chair, still grinning. “Look, I get it. She’s gorgeous, smart, and funny. Way too good for you, obviously.”
I huff out a laugh. “Obviously.”
“If you don’t do something soon, someone else is going to. You remember what happened a few years back? She was single, you hesitated, and some other guy swooped in before you could make a move.”
The memory hits like a punch to the ribs.
I haven’t forgotten.
Not even for a second.
The thought of her with someone else now?
It makes my stomach churn.
“That’s not going to happen this time,” I say, tone hard.
Bridger watches me for a beat before nodding. “Good. I love you, man. I just want to see you happy. And you and I both know… for you, that’s Lilah.”
He’s not wrong.
It’s always been her.
Before I can respond, the restaurant doors swing open again, and Lilah steps back into the light. Holland is beside her, still chatting, but she’s the only thing I’m cognizant of.
The breeze lifts her hair, and in that short black dress, with the muted glow of candlelight catching in her eyes, she’s a fucking vision.
Enough to bring any man to their knees.
I don’t even try to hide the way I look at her.
She slides back into the seat beside me, and my hand instinctively finds her knee under the table. She tenses for the briefest moment but doesn’t pull away.
That’s all the encouragement I need.
My fingers flex against her warm skin, and even through the noise of conversation and clinking glasses, my focus narrows to just this.
Her.
My cousin, of course, can’t resist the opportunity to needle me.
“So,” he says casually, “how long do you think you’ll play house with this guy?”
Lilah raises her glass, taking a sip of her espresso martini. “I’m not sure. Hopefully not too long. I’ve been checking out apartments online.”
Excuse me?
She glances over at me when my hand tightens on her knee.
“He’s been great,” she adds. “But I don’t want to keep cramping his style.”
A growl builds in my chest. “You’re not cramping anything. You can stay as long as you want. Hell, you can stay forever.”
Her lips part as her eyes widen.
It’s almost a surprise when she doesn’t argue.
Bridger leans forward, clearly loving this. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about cramping his style. Steele hasn’t had a girlfriend in—what is it now? Three years?”
I shoot him a glare. “It’s been a while.”