4. Astrid
ASTRID
Declan carries me across the café that is, once again, stunningly quiet.
It’s incredibly unusual for any gathering of the people in this town to be quiet. But I know from experience that Declan O’Grady elicits unusual reactions from just about everyone he encounters.
“And someone bring me some fucking milk.”
That is also going to go on my list of things I never thought I would hear Declan O’Grady say.
I can’t help it. I start giggling.
Which somehow makes the burning worse?
Fuck cayenne pepper, man.
This is all so stupid.
I’m finally in my husband’s arms. Because a shrimp attempted to kill me.
God, he smells so good.
Just outside, Declan sets me on my feet on the colorful patio decorated with the same half-sunny-daytime-half-moody-nighttime chaos as the inside of the restaurant that’s a coffee shop until four p.m., then a bar until midnight.
Ironically, Declan is standing on the yellow-and-pink “daytime” side while my feet are on the dark blue and gray side.
He doesn’t give me much space, and I stand looking up at him, telling myself to step back, but not obeying.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
His voice is deep and grumbling, and there seems to be true concern in his gaze.
I nod. “Their damned spices.”
I sniff and realize my nose is still runny.
Dammit. I’m facing the hottest man I know, the one who makes me actually want to get naked for the first time in years, and my eyes are watery, my nose is runny, and my throat is burning.
My hand suddenly flies up to cover my mouth. I’ve been eating shrimp. Spicy shrimp. I can’t imagine how my breath must smell.
“You don’t like spice?” he asks.
A truly unfortunate part of my brain wants to make a joke about liking spice just fine, but I just shake my head. “Not Louisiana spice. These people are crazy.”
“Yet you are voluntarily living amongst them.”
I’m wondering how I can surreptitiously wipe my nose with him practically standing on top of me. I nod. “The beignets and pralines help make up for it.”
The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly, and I brace myself. If he smiles at me while we’re standing this close, it won’t be the shrimp that sends me to the afterlife.
“So you moved down here for the beignets and pralines?”
Honestly, standing this close to him while he’s talking low and gruff might kill me anyway. Just slower.
But no, he’s not going to seduce me with his voice by talking about why I moved to Louisiana. We’re going to keep pretending that it’s completely about buying a brand new, fresh and fun hockey team.
The hockey team was a total excuse to get several thousand miles away from my husband. The fact that the team ended up wildly successful and a ton of fun was a bonus.
“Beignets and hockey, what could be better?” I ask.
“Right.”
I sniff again and move my hand a little higher to wipe under one of my eyes, where I can feel moisture and have the sneaking suspicion that my mascara has smudged.
“Here.”
I watch as he reaches up and pulls his tie away from his collar. He had already loosened the knot slightly at his neck, and I marvel that he is still in his suit jacket and tie anyway.
It’s June, and it’s already hot and humid here. I moved here last July and can attest that it will soon be skin-sizzling hot.
But I swear Declan probably sleeps in his suits. I have rarely seen him out of them and pray to God I never will. The man is hot in a custom-tailored suit. I do not need to see him in less. I am hanging on by a thread as it is.
He hands me the silk tie that I am certain costs more than some people inside Perks and Rec pay for their monthly car payments.
I take the deep, maroon silk, resisting the urge to lift it to my nose and inhale—I can’t help it, Declan O’Grady smells amazing—and look up at him, confused.
“Wipe your nose.”
Also going on the list of things I never thought Declan would say to me.
“Wipe my nose? On your incredibly expensive silk tie?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t carry a handkerchief. And I’ve got lots of ties.”
The guy is…surprising.
Which is a problem.
I liked him much better when he was predictably distant.
But I do want him to not like me, and me wiping snot on one of his expensive ties seems like a pretty good step in that direction.
So I not only wipe my nose, but I blow it. I also take a portion of the tie and wipe it under both of my eyes, removing mascara.
Then I tuck it back into his suit jacket pocket.
He doesn’t say a word.
The door to Perks and Rec swings open, and Harley, Bruce’s husband and Nora’s grandfather, and one of my favorite people in Rebel, leans out. “Everything good out here?” There is slight concern in his expression, but he seems more amused than anything.
I tip my head and give him a really? look.
Harley is Team Miles. Which means he's automatically suspicious of Declan and fiercely protective of me. He loves me, which means he wants me to be happy, and as far as he can tell, I’m happiest whenever Miles is in town. He’s never seen me happy with Declan. That’s really all it takes around here.
Which is nice. They’ve embraced me and appointed themselves my adopted aunts, uncles, and cousins, which evidently gives them a vote in my love life.
Considering I don’t want my husband here visiting me, that works for me.
“Definitely feeling better,” I tell him.
“Glad to hear it.” Harley holds out a cup with a straw and my purse. “Here you go.”
I take the purse, and Declan takes the cup. “What’s this? We need milk.”
“Milkshake,” Harley says with a nod. “Pecan Praline Crunch. Her favorite.” Harley gives me a smile.
“You don’t have plain milk?” Declan asks.
“Sure, we do,” Harley says.
“You couldn’t bring that?”
“I could have. But this is better.”
“She just needs something to take away the burn.”
“This will do that too,” Harley says, gesturing at the cup.
“It’s…overkill for what we need,” Declan says.
Harley chuckles. “Welcome to Rebel.”
Declan clearly doesn’t know what to say to that.
Harley laughs again. “Overkill is kind of our specialty.”
Declan hands me the cup. “You did say you like pralines.”
I really do. And these milkshakes are incredible. I take a short pull on the straw. Then a longer one. I moan.
Declan clears his throat.
I look at Harley. “This is great.”
“Your mouth, okay?”
“Better. But I probably need to drink at least half of this milkshake just to be safe.”
Harley winks. “Good idea.”
“Thanks, Harley,” I say.
“Of course. Anything you need, sweetheart.” Then he turns and lets the door bump shut behind him.
“You’re welcome,” Declan says.
Right. The milk was his idea. His demand, even.
I suck on the straw again, give a happy sigh, then shrug. “I am definitely not voting for the sassy shrimp.”
“Sounds like this is all kind of your own fault. You begged for a spot at the judging table. Any chance you did that last minute because I was in town?”
Damn. I cannot forget that this man is very intelligent. And apparently paying attention to details.
“That would have required me to think about you and care,” I say.
Now the corner of his mouth actually curls all the way up.
And yeah, I was right. Being this close to him when he smirks or even half-smiles is a bad idea.
“Yes. It would have.”
Did he just move closer? Because suddenly the air around us feels a little warmer, and I feel like he’s taking up a lot more space. I suck on the straw again and give another little moan.
He frowns as his gaze drops to my mouth. “It can’t be that good.”
My brows rise. “Oh, it is.” Without thinking, I hold it up to him. “Seriously.”
He hesitates, then, just as I realize what I've offered and start to pull it back, he takes the cup and lifts it to his mouth.
I watch as his beautiful lips wrap around the straw where my lips just were.
He takes a long pull, and for a second, I’m distracted from his mouth by the widening of his eyes.
I smile. “See?”
“That’s…very good.”
“Told yo—”
I break off when he swipes his tongue over his lower lip.
Oh, this is just all really bad.
I’ve shared numerous straws and forks with Miles. I’ve never wished my nipples were the straw or fork.
I do now.
“Astrid?”
I look from Declan’s mouth to his eyes. “What?”
“I asked if Miles told you I was coming to town.”
He had? He asked me a whole question I hadn’t heard? I think about the question. I shake my head. “No.” That’s all I can manage. But I do frown. I need to yell at Miles for not warning me about Declan now that he mentions it.
Declan takes another long drink of my milkshake, and I snatch the cup back. “Hey!”
He grins. “I’ll have to try another one of those while I’m here.”
“You can grab one right now to take with you back to the airport.”
“I won’t be heading to the airport for about a week. With you.”
I sigh. “You’re staying here until we go to Cara?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it will be easier to convince my grandfather not to annul our marriage after we’ve spent a glorious week together, clearly madly in love, and we both tell him we want to stay married.”
My eyes widen. “Um…what?”
He nods. “We’re staying married.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“We got married because your grandfather wanted it. Now he doesn’t. Let’s just…” I shrug. This is so obvious. “Let him annul it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to stay married.”
Oh. I get it.
Perfect Declan O’Grady doesn’t like how it will look if he gets divorced.
Especially now that everyone thinks something is going on with Miles and me.
Sure, it’s mostly the people at Perks and Rec, the town website, and the podcast from Cara talking about it, but there are a few sports outlets that follow us both because of our hockey teams. There’s definitely been curiosity around my move to Louisiana, and now a few rumblings about Miles and our marriage.
But I really didn’t think Declan cared.
My gaze drops to his mouth again.
I have to get rid of this guy.
Declan has to break off this marriage.
But…
It hits me suddenly.
His being thousands of miles away has been too easy on him.
Declan O’Grady here in Rebel Louisiana is the perfect way to convince him to end this.
“Okay,” I agree. “You should definitely stay at my house with me this week.”
Suspicion flickers in his gaze. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
He is going to hate it here.
I’m going to make sure of it.