Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Because he matters.
Right. Prick.
“I chose this place because it’s my favorite in the city,” I said. “My dad was a huge Tim Burton fan.” That old wound of my parents’ loss flickered to life, but I had healed enough that the grief wasn’t consuming. “We used to watch them on snow days, rainy days…” I laughed softly. “Any days, really. It was like our thing. My mom and brother weren’t big fans, but me and Dad? We lived for each new movie. Cherished the time and talent it took to create—the animation, the costumes, the story content. It was something that…” I sighed. “It was special.”
I shrugged, suddenly wondering if opening myself up like this would only give Cormac more ammunition for later. I decided I didn’t care either way, and continued. “My best friend Grace found this place our first year in college. I was having a particularly dark day...it might’ve been Father’s Day…I don’t remember. But she brought me here. It helped clear the clouds away. I’ve been coming ever since. It makes me feel closer to him, as ridiculous as that might sound—”
“It doesn’t,” Cormac cut me off, his voice low, scratchy. “I didn’t…” He shook his head. “I didn’t realize…”
“Realize that not every choice I make revolves around you?” I teased. “Or that not everything with me is about money?”
He pressed his lips together. “I deserve that.”
“Uh huh,” I said, but my tone was light. “So,” I said. “Now that all that is out of the way, what do you think?”
He blew out a breath, a swarm of relief hitting his eyes that I wasn’t going to lay into him. “The Nightmare Before Christmas is one of my favorites.”
“Really?” I asked, leaning back as Sally brought our food to the table.
“Really,” he said after she’d left. “Beetlejuice is a close second though.” He shrugged, grabbing his fork and tucking into his pork belly.
I tried to bite back my smile, tried to tell my heart to chill the fuck out. So what that he liked a couple of my favorite movies? It didn’t mean we were about to make friendship bracelets.
We chatted on and off while we ate, me talking more than him, but at least he wasn’t growling at me anymore—not that it wasn’t sexy as hell when he did.
“Why the rush to graduate early?” he asked, twirling his second drink in his hand.
“I was tired of waiting to start my own life.”
“Your own life?” he asked. “Isn’t that always what it’s been?”
I laughed, eyes on my second drink. “No,” I said, my head feeling slightly bubbly from the alcohol, though it could just as easily be his company. “When my parents were alive, I was always the McClaren’s daughter. Then it turned into McClaren’s little sister.” I shrugged, taking a sip of water. “Having that grueling schedule at college, double majoring in business and design, using all my inheritance to buy Lusso…” I blew out a breath. “Those are all decisions I made for me. Not for my brother, not for the family name, but for me. Because I wanted it. Believed in it.”
Cormac nodded, but the look in his eyes? It was a mixture of impressed and wary—like he still was terrified of me but could understand me at the same time.
Infuriating. That was Cormac to a freaking T.
Another drink and hour later, we bid Sally and the Beetlejuice bartender farewell, stepping onto the busy sidewalk.
I smiled. “I love the city at night,” I said, glancing up at Cormac. “Isn’t it just beautiful?” I waved an arm to encompass the busy foot-traffic, the bright lights, and the honking cabs on the street before us.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Kind of loud.”
I laughed, maybe a little too hard. Possibly should’ve stopped at one Devil’s Breath but I’d needed the liquid courage to get through the dinner with Cormac. And now that it was done? I didn’t want it to end—
“Whoops!” I said as we walked down the sidewalk, stumbling just a bit in my stilettos. “Sorry!” I said as Cormac’s arm slipped around my waist to steady me.
His touch burned through every inch of me—a sizzling need swirling in my chest. I gazed up at him as he hauled me into a shop alcove, darting us out of the way of the people rushing down the sidewalk.
“Still can’t hold your liquor,” he teased, shaking his head.
I fisted his shirt, my toes curling in my heels. He blinked a couple times as if he only now realized he was still holding me.
He promptly let me go.
“Cormac,” I said, my voice a breathless whisper. “Would you…do you want to come back to my place? For…coffee?” I suggested but it sounded a whole lot closer to asking for something else.
“No,” he answered so quickly I flinched.
I dipped my head, unable to maintain the strong, confident woman I knew I was supposed to be.