Chapter 7 #3
When I look up, Declan’s dark eyes are boring down into mine. From this close, I can appreciate how thick and dark his lashes are. Someone – Sean, maybe? – clears their throat, but neither of us looks over toward the sound. Electricity crackles in the space between us, surprising me.
What is it about this guy?
Finally, Declan breaks our eye contact, leaning down to pick something up off the sidewalk with his left hand still closed around my wrist. As he straightens, he flips my hand over and drops something into my palm.
I look down and it takes me a beat to realize I’m looking at my car keys.
My favorite keychain, a miniature pink Volkswagen Beetle covered in flowers and peace signs, rests along my life line.
It’s the only one I can remember from that summer in high school when Grace became obsessed with palm reading.
I feel the barest hint of a squeeze around my wrist before Declan lets go and takes a step back.
“Dropped those,” he says simply.
I try to swallow but my mouth is suddenly dry. “Um, thanks,” I rasp out. I open my mouth to add something else but start coughing instead, only adding to my embarrassment.
Grace thumps me on the back. “You good?”
I nod, not trusting my vocal cords to work properly.
I glance up at Declan again, expecting to find that infuriating smirk on his stupidly handsome face, but his face is relaxed, eyes open just a little wider than necessary, like he’s marveling at something.
They bounce back and forth between each of mine and I wonder what he’s reading on my face that has him so intrigued.
I probably don’t want to know.
Olivia finally breaks the tension by telling everyone goodbye again. She and Grace each loop an arm through mine and I let them pull me away to my SUV. We’re all silent until we’re safely behind the locked car doors, with Olivia riding passenger and Grace seated behind me.
As soon as the lock clicks, Grace leans forward and smacks Olivia’s arm.
“Ow, what was that for?” Olivia whines, rubbing the spot on her bicep.
“Bet you fifty bucks Elsie and Declan fuck by the end of the summer,” Grace declares.
I can only hope the guys have gone inside the building so they can’t hear my shouted, “Excuse me?”
Olivia, the traitor, laughs as if Grace just told the best joke she’s ever heard, clutching her belly and doubling over. I turn in my seat to glare at Grace, but the crossed arms and smug look on her face tell me she doesn’t give one single fuck.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she insists.
“You’re wrong!”
“No, I’m not.” She leans over to smack Olivia again, a bit lighter this time. “Tell her I’m not wrong.”
Olivia straightens, wiping tears from her eyes. “I don’t know if they’re going to kill each other or fuck each other, but something is going to happen. God, I wish I had a front row seat.”
“I might have to quit my job and hang out in the flower shop all day,” Grace muses.
“You’re both wrong,” I tell them. “There’s not a single chance in hell I would sleep with him, of all people. He infuriates me.”
“Isn’t that just the best, though? I could cut the tension between you two with a knife. And when he grabbed you like that?” She fans herself like she did on the sidewalk and I roll my eyes. She’s ridiculous.
And there is not tension between us, which is exactly what I tell her.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Olivia interjects. “I’m with Grace on this one.”
I groan. “Not you, too.”
Olivia shrugs. Grace, undeterred by my attitude, rubs her hands together like an evil villain.
“Mark my words: by the end of this summer, that man is going to have you flat on your back.”
I bite my tongue and turn back in my seat, finally putting the car into drive and checking over my shoulder to make sure no cars are coming. As I pull away from the curb, I try my hardest not to think about Grace’s prophecy.
I definitely don’t think about those strong, tattooed hands sliding across my skin, or how his long, muscled body might fit over mine.
I don’t wonder if he’d be rough or gentle with me, or whether the tattoos I’ve gotten glimpses of extend over his entire body.
I really don’t think about that gruff voice of his and what kinds of things he might whisper in the dark, with me underneath him or on top of him.
Instead, I wonder how I can make sure to stay far the hell away from Declan. I wonder if it’s even possible, when we’re going to be working in the same building with only a wall separating us sometime in the near future.
My stomach tightens at the thought. For unknown reasons, Declan makes me feel off-kilter, like I can’t find my footing. It’s the last thing I need right now, when I’m trying to get a business up and running.
When I catch myself glancing in the rear-view mirror, checking to see if he’s still on the sidewalk outside the building (he’s not), I give myself a mental shake. This behavior isn’t like me, and Declan is very much not my type, regardless of the way my pulse raced when his skin touched mine.
Grace and Olivia are wrong.
But just in case they’re not – I need to stay far away from that man.