Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Aunt Blake came closer, studying Silas. “I don’t understand, but then again, I never claimed to be an expert in romance. Welcome to the family, honey,” she said to the man next to me. “You can call me Aunt Blake. Now, how’d the two of you meet? Tell me everything.”
Sheridan turned on her heel and disappeared back into the kitchen, presumably to tell her husband the news and ask his advice on how best to “handle” me. I would have followed her if I hadn’t been so afraid of Silas letting the cat out of the bag about the truth of our marriage.
“We, ah… we met…” I began.
Silas cleared his throat and adjusted my death grip on his hand. I felt the soft swipe of his thumb across my skin. “At a bar,” he prompted, telling a version of the truth just as he had to the woman the other night.
“Yes!” I seized this conversational life preserver, nodding my head like an idiot and trying to ignore what his thumb was doing to my stomach muscles. “At a bar. He… he saved me from several women who were…”
“Trying to pick him up,” he said dryly.
“We danced!” I added. “And… talked. A lot.” I turned to Silas, begging him with my eyes to go along with the generous interpretation of events, notably, the lack of mentioning we were on the way toward being blackout drunk.
He looked wary but didn’t protest. In fact, he turned back to Aunt Blake and added, “I was charmed by your nephew, ma’am. He’s very handsome and… kind.”
My entire body felt like it was on fire. If Foster had been here, he would have never let me hear the end of how red my face had to be. “And Silas was… is… also… h-handsome,” I said, feeling like I was under interrogation lights. It seemed half the town was listening to my explanation. “And smart. And funny.” I glanced at Silas. “And a good dancer.”
His eyes met mine with their usual intensity. “I couldn’t wait to see him again,” he admitted in a softer voice. I couldn’t tell if it was truth or fiction, but I realized I hoped it was real. For some reason, I cared what this stranger thought of me, especially right now when I was playing fast and loose with his reputation.
“Anyway,” I said, pasting on a large smile. “We were hoping to have a quiet lunch. I promised him Bo’s chicken wrap.”
Aunt Blake ushered us to a table in the dead center of the cafe as if we were royalty. I knew from experience this was where she sat groups that might prove entertaining.
“Can we get that booth in the corner?” I asked, pointing to the only open booth in the place.
“Tsk. You know how I like to keep those for bigger families, Waylon. No, you’ll be fine right here. I’ll send Sheridan over with some ice waters.”
Before I could argue, she was off. Silas took a seat at the table like it was no big deal. Like his entire world hadn’t just imploded.
My appetite was completely gone, replaced by a jangly nausea that reminded me of the hangover I’d had the day before.
“Sit, husband,” Silas said wryly.
I sat.
SIX
SILAS
My lips had still been tingling from the kiss in the alley when everything seemed to spin wildly out of control.
What in the fuck had just happened? Waylon had gone from swearing me up and down to silence about our marriage to claiming it fully and publicly as if we were the newest, happiest couple in Majestic.
Way narrowed his eyes at me. “You don’t have to look so happy about it.”
I huffed in surprise and couldn’t hold back my sarcasm. “But haven’t you heard? I’m a newlywed, Waylon. I’m a happily married man. Apparently.”
Way’s ears were dark red, which I was trying my hardest not to think of as adorably indicative of his discomfort. “Mph.”
A woman with a long, dirty-blond braid, wearing a denim shirt, black leggings, and a black cotton apron, sauntered up and slapped two dripping glasses of water on the table. “Nice, Waylon Heath. Real nice.”
Way winced. “I’m sorry. It’s kind of a… long story.”
She ignored him and shot a look my way. “Hi. I’m Sheridan, Way’s sister.”
I met her gaze with confidence. I didn’t remember everything about my night in Vegas, but I remembered the way Waylon had spoken about Sheridan. “The one who gave him the scar on his shoulder, right?”
Way’s gaze seared the side of my face, but I refused to look at him. I suddenly realized I’d exposed something about myself by admitting I’d remembered and noted that small detail.
Sheridan’s eyes widened, and she glanced at Way in surprise. “Oh. I… I guess I thought you were pulling some kind of prank on me. On all of us.”