Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Declan: You’re doomed.
A snort jumped out of me. It wasn’t often that Declan sneaked in a burn on Pierce and Rome. That was a good one, too.
Me: What should I do?
Pierce: Go upstairs and look at the fantasy books, just like you do every damn time you’re in the store. You want him to feel safe and relax? Give. Him. Space.
Deep down, I knew Pierce was right, but I didn’t want him to be right. I might want to wrap myself around Byron, cover us in a blanket, and listen to him tell me all his problems, dreams, and hopes, but we were so far off from that day.
Besides, he’d clearly had a shit day on Friday, and the best thing I could do was give him some space to breathe and get his bearings.
Me: Fine.
Pierce: I don’t believe you. Send a pic of the fantasy aisle as soon as you get there.
With an irritated grunt, I headed to the escalator, leaving Byron on the first floor. This was what I got for taking Pierce along on my trips to the bookstore. The man knew my reading habits. The moment I reached the second floor, I snapped a quick picture of the great expanse, knowing Pierce would recognize it, and sent it to the group.
Afterward, I tucked my phone away and let myself get lost in books. It might have taken a little while, but I forgot about my crush on the first floor.
I didn’t know how much time passed before I caught sight of slacks and a familiar shiny shoe in my peripheral vision. My head snapped up, and I found Byron standing over me, wearing borrowed clothes. Sadly, he was too small to fit in my clothes and he’d had to settle for a pair of slacks and a dark-blue collared shirt Rome had forgotten at my house.
“I was beginning to think someone had kidnapped you,” Byron teased.
“Huh?” My brain had stopped. I was incapable of thought. Byron was smiling at me.
In fact, all the lines of tension that had pulled his lips tight, furrowed his brow, and surrounded his eyes were now gone. He appeared so much better than he had this morning. Space combined with quiet and books was a wonderful thing.
“I’ve been searching everywhere for you. I didn’t expect to see you sitting in the middle of the fantasy aisle with a stack of books.”
“Oh! Yeah. Kind of got lost in these.” I shoved to my feet with only a soft groan from stiff muscles and creaking knees. I picked up my stack of books and paused when I saw just one book tucked under his arm. “Are you done, or are you still looking?”
“I’m done. I’m good,” Byron answered quickly, hugging the book to his chest.
“You sure? Because I’m happy to find a chair and read for another hour.”
“Nah. I’m good.”
“Do you read only nonfiction?” I inquired as I led the way to the first floor and the checkout counter.
“Mostly. I used to read fantasy, but I haven’t in years. I’m so behind on all my favorite authors.”
“Well, if you ever want to start again, you can always raid my library. I’ve been collecting since high school, and my collection has gotten out of control.”
“Thanks.”
I bit my tongue to hold in my babbling. It was a good thing the line was short and the young woman ringing me up wanted to chat as she worked, giving me a chance to recover my self-control and collect my thoughts. As it was, I had to use all the self-control I’d gathered to keep myself from offering to buy his book. Byron was a self-sufficient, independent man. He didn’t need a sugar daddy buying all his things. Even though I wanted to be that sugar daddy with every fiber of my fucking being.
As we stepped outside, my stomach growled.
“Lunch!” I shouted and then inwardly cursed myself. That was supposed to be the silent part. “Um. You hungry? It’s…shit!” I glanced at my watch to find that we’d lost hours in that store. “How about a late lunch before I take you home?”
Byron opened his mouth, looking as if he were planning to turn me down, but his expression shifted at the last second and he nodded. “Okay. That sounds nice.”
“Great. I know this place not far from here. My treat.”
And to my even greater shock, Byron didn’t argue.
We climbed into my two-seat convertible Jag—the one thing I could use to show off a bit and treat Byron, since I wasn’t allowed to stick him on a private jet at this very early stage of things. In less than twenty minutes, we’d zipped across town to this restaurant that was always crowded because the dining room was so tiny. However, since I was a key investor, Lisa and Ray always had a table waiting for me.