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)
“You…the…Declan? He looks different in person. Wow,” she breathes out, still staring at him. “You raced back here to edit that footage when you could’ve been banging that terrifyingly sexy man harder than a barn door the last few days?”
“I don’t have the brain cells to unpack all that,” I mutter.
“Emery?” Declan pulls his shoulders back and slowly approaches, stopping a few feet away from us. His gaze slips to Wren and he dips his chin. “You must be Wren? The woman who works her magic editing all of Emery’s videos?”
Wren’s eyes widen and her lips part, but no words tumble out of her mouth. Huh. Who knew there was a way to tie her tongue.
“That’s me,” Wren finally answers. She swivels her head between Declan and me, finally landing on me. “My girl’s the one with the talent. I just stitch it all together.”
“Editing is a talent,” I mutter even though Wren’s laser focused on Declan.
He holds out his hand to her. “Declan Sterling.”
“Good evening, Declan,” she says in the most gracious tone I’ve ever heard Wren use. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” She runs her gaze over him. “But it seems Emery kept many details to herself.”
He ducks his head and laughs.
I elbow Wren in the side.
“How’d you find me?” I ask.
He straightens and his expression settles into a more serious one. “You list the studio you use in your videos—”
“In very tiny print,” Wren adds. “All the way at the bottom.”
Declan lets out another smooth chuckle. “Yup. I figured you had lots of footage to go through, so I might find you here.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Can we talk?” he says to me.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Wren offers, holding out her hand for my keys. “We rode here together,” she explains to Declan.
Disappointment or maybe embarrassment flashes in his eyes but he covers quickly with a smile. “Sorry to intrude like this.”
“No,” I say quickly. “It’s fine.”
Why is he here? I gave him the easiest out ever. He’s going to make me spell it out for him, isn’t he? That’s a conversation that doesn’t need witnesses.
“Here.” I hold out my keys to Wren. “Go ahead. Take my car. I’ll grab the keys from you later.”
She reaches for the keys, then hesitates. “Are you sure?” She casts another quick glance at Declan, sizing him up for more than just his hotness now.
“Do you mind dropping me off at my place?” I ask Declan. “It’s not far.”
He holds his hands out at his sides palms up as if he’s trying to show Wren he’s not a threat to me. “I’ll take you anywhere you ask me to.”
Satisfied with his answer, Wren grabs the keys from my hand. “Just so you know, I live right upstairs, so try not to make too much noise when you drop her off.” The emphasis she puts on the last three words makes it sound more like fuck her silly.
Declan keeps a straight face. “Noted.”
I blow out an irritated breath. “Bye, Wren.”
Neither of us say anything until she’s honked the horn, waved, and turned the car onto the main road.
Declan steps closer.
Up close he seems tired or wary. “Got your letter.”
“That’s good.” I jam my hands deeper into my pockets and try to look anywhere but his handsome face.
“Are you cold?” he asks. “Do you want to sit in the truck?”
It’s a roomy bench seat. We could probably…maybe a farewell frolic will make this hurt less?
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I might end up in your lap.” I can’t believe I said that out loud!
He blinks, then understanding seems to spread over his face. “I won’t stop you. But I’d like to talk first.”
“Oh.” That’s all my brain to mouth function can manage. My pulse kicks up. Suddenly my body’s very aware of how much it’d like to be close to Declan’s.
“I read the letter,” he says.
A slow quiver of embarrassment thrums through me. I cross my arms over my chest to keep myself from falling apart. “And?”
Declan studies my face, his jaw tight, eyes searching like he’s trying to read between my lines and find all the things I left unwritten. “And for someone who’s such a good writer, it’s bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
Declan exhales, running a hand over the back of his neck. The motion pulls my attention to his shoulders. The place where one of the Rider’s marks used to live. Has he noticed a difference? Have any regrets? Do I have the right to even ask?
“You should’ve talked to me first,” he says.
I clear my throat and try to remain calm. “I thought it was better this way.”
“Better for who?”
I glance past him, toward the street. Toward anything that isn’t his face. “Both of us.”
“Get in the truck,” he says.
“What?” I hug myself tighter, afraid I’ll shatter into a million pieces if I let go.