Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Well, alrighty then.” I didn’t like this version of Declan, hurt and miserable and shutting me out. “Guess I should head to bed. Come on, Oz.”
“You’re not gonna read?” Declan sounded genuinely surprised and disappointed. And that was all the more reason for me to decline, along with my neglected resolution. We were fast falling into habits that weren’t healthy for my heart, especially if Declan didn’t want to talk. Our friendship needed to be a two-way street, and even then, I couldn’t ignore the real risk of my more-than-friendly feelings.
“Not tonight.”
“Why didn’t you have a date? You should have had a New Year’s Eve date.” His tone was defiant. “Gotta be boring, hanging out with the kids and the cr—”
“Watch how you talk,” I warned before he could finish the slur.
“I was going to say crappy excuse for a human being.” Declan rolled his eyes at me like that line was much better than what I’d assumed. “I am pretty worthless these days.”
“You are not, and with everyone else pulling a shift tonight, someone needed to be home with the teens.” I shrugged, trying to keep my tone casual despite his prodding. “Besides, I’m kind of on a break from dating.”
“That’s bullshit. You didn’t want someone to kiss at midnight?”
You. You. You. But I couldn’t say that, couldn’t let myself think it for more than a second.
“Good night, Declan.” Breathing hard, I summoned Oz with my hand and left the room before Delcan or I could say—or do—something we might regret.
Chapter Nine
Declan
Awakening on New Year’s Day with regrets was hardly new for me, but instead of a pounding head and hangover, all I had was deep-seated dread over seeing Jonas. I probably needed to prepare an apology for being so sharp when he hadn’t wanted to read last night. I’d acted more than a little spoiled, and being disappointed was hardly an adequate excuse.
My bad mood started from being cooped up on New Year’s Eve, but being pressed against Jonas in the blanket fort had been torture. And I said that as a professional in an extreme sport who pushed my body to the limit. But apparently, my body had never run into someone quite like Jonas. I’d been hyperaware of his every shift in movement, the brush of his leg against mine, the flex of his arm, the rise and fall of his broad chest. And he’d smelled amazing. I’d been half-hard most of the movie, and even a very cold shower after hadn’t alleviated that thrum of arousal. I’d been horny before, but nothing like Jonas inspired.
I’d also left Rowan and Wren’s festivities in a huff, and I likely owed them an apology too. Gah. Living in a group house was far harder than chilling alone in a trailer or hotel room somewhere.
However, I was hungry, and the scent of something sweet and carby had reached my room. Hunger won out over my desire to hide from awkward conversations, and I dressed in easy-on sweats and a loose T-shirt from a moto event a few years back.
In the kitchen, I discovered Jonas manning a giant skillet of bacon while Wren hovered over a griddle full of pancakes. Oz had been lying on his bed by the window, but he roused himself long enough to come greet me.
“The pancakes are edible today,” Wren announced solemnly as I made my way to a stool at the breakfast bar. Oz flopped down next to my scooter.
“Sometimes they aren’t?” I asked, trying not to sound too suspicious.
“Often.” Maren, the oldest of Eric’s teens, who was home from college on winter break, breezed into the kitchen. I’d only seen her in passing thus far, but she helped herself to two cups of coffee and plopped next to me like we were old pals, sliding one cup to me. “Please don’t ask how my New Year’s Eve went.”
“Same.” I grinned at her. “Thanks for the coffee. And actually, my night wasn’t terrible. Wren and Rowan went to a lot of trouble. I was the grumpy one who went to bed early.”
“Darn. I was hoping to hear about a New Year’s Eve kiss.” Maren laughed merrily, but I choked on something. “Jonas could use one.”
“Maren.” Cheeks bright red, Jonas used a warning tone. “Declan is Sean’s kid. And straight.”
I frowned, hating his use of the word kid as well as the reminder that he was my dad’s friend first and foremost.
“And?” Still laughing, she shrugged her slim shoulders. She had the same eyes and build as Rowan. “You know hot wounded messes are totally your type. And Declan needs a—”
“Breakfast.” Jonas set plates in front of us with a loud clatter.
“I’m not a mess.” I ignored my food in favor of mulling over her tease.
“Yeah, you are.” She patted my shoulder like she was the older one despite me probably having three years or more on her. “But don’t worry. You’ll fit right in here. We’re all different flavors of hot mess.”