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)
He blows out a long breath—like he’s counting back from ten to hold onto his patience. “You shouldn’t have gone alone.”
A soft warning, not anger. Still feels like I’m being scolded. “I’m a big girl, Declan. I’ve been on my own a lot longer than most people my age. I know how to take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you do.” He waves a hand toward the town square. “Out there. Inside Crowsbridge Hollow isn’t the same.”
I open my mouth, ready with a thousand arguments—logic, skepticism, sarcasm—but the mark on my arm tingles, stealing all of them. Declan doesn’t need to scold me when the curse is more than willing to do the job.
“The mark?” he asks.
I hold my arm up, the green light pulsing faintly through my sleeve. “I feel like it’s mocking me now and taking your side.”
He doesn’t laugh. Not even a twitch at the corners of his mouth.
He’s worried.
Finally, he shakes his head. “All right. As long as you’re okay.”
That seemed a little too easy. “I’m fine.”
“You want to walk around more,” he asks, “or head somewhere quieter?”
Somewhere we can be alone? Yes, please! “I want to save something for later. Let’s go. Where do you have in mind?”
“My place.”
My pulse jumps, quick and dizzying. “The apartment or your house?”
A V forms between his eyebrows. “You want to go back to the house?”
“Sure. It’s beautiful. I’d love to…explore it more.” Anxious that I’ll offend him, I shyly hold up my camera. “I’d love to take some footage there if you’d allow it.”
His frown deepens but he tilts his head, dark eyes studying me. “I don’t really want to encourage tourists to start showing up in my driveway.” He pauses, his face screwing into a thoughtful scowl. “I…you could film the river from one of the balconies in the morning. With the fog rolling in and the sun cutting through, it’d give you a nice, spooky vibe.”
Knowing how Declan feels about exposure, heck, how he feels about my entire investigation, his offer seems like a huge deal. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
Declan picks up our cocoa cups and hands mine back while keeping the kettle corn tucked under his arm. “Come on. It’s too chilly for the bike tonight. My truck’s behind the shop.”
I glance around, trying to get my bearings. “Lead the way.”
The crowd seems even more wound up as we walk. The fog presses closer, softening the lights and decorations until everything appears slightly blurred around the edges. Declan slides his free hand down my back, his palm warm through my coat as he guides me around a cluster of kids swinging glow sticks.
We reach his truck. He opens the passenger door and helps me up, his hand lingering at my waist, thumb brushing a slow arc through my coat. Heat pools in my chest. The mark under my sleeve flickers, restless.
He closes my door gently, like I’m precious cargo he doesn’t want to jostle, then rounds the hood and climbs in beside me. The cab lights wash his features in harsh yellow for a second before fading, leaving only the faint glow from the buildings behind us.
His jaw works as he starts the engine. The truck rumbles to life and he flicks on the heat, turning it all the way up.
“You okay?” I ask when the cab’s warmer.
“I’m fine.” He turns the heat down and shifts into reverse, flashing a quick smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
We slip out of the parking lot and turn onto the street leading to the inn. Did I misunderstand him? Is he dropping me off instead?
But no, he keeps going, cruising past the Applewood Inn, which is glowing like an eerie Christmas snow globe, its front lawn guarded by a skeletal Santa and bone-thin reindeer frozen mid-prance.
Streetlights blur past as he speeds up, golden halos swallowed by the foggy air. As we slip out of downtown, he drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting palm-up on the seat between us.
I reach over and slide my fingers against his.
He curls his hand around mine with a sure, possessive strength that makes me feel like nothing bad could ever happen when I’m with him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Declan
The house feels different with Emery beside me. The floorboards don’t creak as loud. The shadows don’t cling as tight. Even the river in the distance sounds calmer, rolling steady against the bank, soothing something inside my chest.
I unlock the door and step back to let her in. She brushes past me, coat draped over her arm, cheeks still pink from the cold. Her eyes move over the entryway like she’s worried she shouldn’t admire it too much.
“Want me to warm up your cocoa?” I ask, holding up the nearly empty paper cup.
“No.” She clutches her stomach. “I think I’ve had enough.”
“I’m going to toss these.” I lift the cups in the air. “Go ahead and hang up your coat, make yourself comfortable.”