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I want to say, “I’m tired, too.” But I don’t. I head for the trash bin and toss the plates.
“Tell me the name of the bakery so I can have a reference. If I know what the cake tastes like, I can find us someone to replicate it. Or I don’t know. Maybe even convince the people to do it.”
“It’s Scotty’s mom’s recipe. She’s too old to bake it herself.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “Get me the recipe. I know someone who can help.”
“Who?”
“My mom. She’s like the queen of baking. She wins blue ribbons in the state fair like every single year.”
He lets out a choked laugh. “The state fair? Are you from the country, Ms. Cullen?”
“Stop being so dramatic,” I say. We’d started the chat about where I was from before the car crash. Then things obviously were sidetracked. “I’m from Connecticut. I just so happened to live on a lavender farm surrounded by other farming families, but we were not in the country. The closest gas station was four minutes away.”
“Wow, a whole four minutes? Is that on one horsepower speed or 180?”
My mouth gapes open at his sheer audacity to make fun of me. “We did not ride the horses to the gas station. What would be the point of that?”
“I don’t know what it is you country folk do in your spare time, Samira.”
The tension in my shoulders dissipates now that we’ve steered away from nuclear territory and are into steady ground. I hate making him feel horrible, and I do not want to spend our last few hours on heavy topics. I want this Declan, the man standing before me, smiling. He’s right. When he’s dressed up in his suit, a frown in place, and he uses that deep, burly voice, he is scary. He’s not the sweet and innocent Declan; the cute guy I see when he’s dressed down or peacefully sleeping.
“We countryfolk,” I say with sass. I pop out my hip and rest a hand on it. “Do the same things as all the other kids do growing up. Except instead of sucking face in the back of a movie theatre, we did it on the ledge at the ridge.”
He shoots me that devious grin. My heart skips a beat. How can he be so devastatingly handsome? It isn’t right. My gaze falls to the way he unbuttons the dark dress shirt he wears. Today, there’s no t-shirt under it. Just bare skin covered in the beautiful marks of art. I could study every line, every image barred in his flesh foryearsand still not remember it all. It makes me wonder how much of it is meaningful, like the crying girl on his back, or is some of it just something he hid the invisible scars that mar his soul?
“Come here,” he says.
Declan points a finger at me, then waggles it. I obey; the stupid, foolish girl that I am. I walk to him as if he tugs on an invisible line tethering us. There are bonds we share—unspoken ones that neither of us wants to dig into. We’re both comfortable skirting around the truths. When I’m close enough to him, he clutches my throat and pulls me so our mouths are so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath. If one of us speaks, our lips will be touching.
“Kissing boys beneath the oak tree?” he says, and my thighs clench around an empty nothingness at how rough his voice is.
All I can do is dip my head in acknowledgment of his question.
“On the mouth?”
A squeak escapes me. He presses his lips to mine. It’s quick, just enough to leave me wanting more. So, when he pulls away, I’ll follow.
“Did they kiss your sweet pussy, too?”
I close my eyes. My throat tightens with his firm grip, holding me to him. His jealousy is surging out of him in waves, and I’m not sure I want to tell the truth and make it worse. “Yes,” I breathe.
“And how was it?” He slides a hand into the waistband of my sweats. “Did they make you come?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“You want me to make you come, doll?”
I nod.
“Then stay here with me. One more night. We’ll leave in the morning, then cut ties.”
One more night with him. My heart sores at the thought, but I know if I say yes, I’ll never stop. One more night will turn into the rest of the day, will turn into tomorrow again. “One more night,” I whisper, hating myself for going against what I’ve already promised.
Chapter Twenty-One
Isipcoffeefrommy mug while I catch up on emails from the weekend. I open up the dating app and don’t even bother to check out the ridiculous number of notifications I have on there. I just delete the entire thing. It was Veronica’s idea in the first place. I don’t need cyber companionship and Declan’s right. Meeting a stranger online is dangerous. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take when I have children who need me.
