Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I don't go to her because I don't want her to feel like I need an explanation or any kind of comfort after what happened last night. I don't expect assurances or even a conversation about it, but I do want to know that she isn't regretting what happened.
Regret means I would've done something wrong, misread her body language, or taken things too far after missing a cue from her to stop.
She glances away for the briefest of seconds before turning her eyes right back to me. Her smile changes, her face softening, and I witness her real smile, not the fake one I've seen her give others. Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink, and it makes me curious what she might be thinking about or remembering from our time together.
She glances away, looking around as if trying to determine whether others are watching us and making assumptions.
I follow her line of sight when her mouth freezes mid-conversation with Misty.
Kincaid is standing across the room, his eyes going from her right to me, and I don't know how to gauge the wide smile that covers his face for a few seconds before he turns to speak with Hound.
I glance back at her to see her dip her head slightly, turning her eyes back up to meet mine.
I wink at her, feeling like I'm walking on air, when she grins back at me before turning her full attention back to Misty.
We seem fine. Whatever issues I conjured up in my head seem not to exist.
Since I know we'll get a chance to talk eventually, I focus on making a plate of food and standing off to the side to eat.
The kids are at the kitchen tables, and although I don't mind being around kids, that little boy, Dean, watches me like he's terrified I'm going to rip his ears off, and I don't see the point in ruining their meal just by being there.
"Did you get the potato salad?" Thumper asks as he walks up, a frown on his face when he looks down at my plate.
"I ate it first," I assure him, chuckling when his whole demeanor changes at my words.
"It's the best stuff," he says, turning to face the room at my side. "I may have to get more. Just waiting for everyone else to eat first."
"I got the last of it," I tell him. "Scraped the bowl."
He laughs again and shakes his head. "Em never puts all of it out at once. There's more."
"You sure about that?" I tease, feeling a little foolish when he turns to look at me like I've grown a second head or something.
"You seem different," he says, because the man just can't leave well enough alone.
"I'm just me," I argue, but I know I have to seem different to many of them.
He walked up to speak to me, which isn't unheard of, but it's also not common either. Everyone includes me in the meetings, and work is never an issue, but a lot keep their distance in situations like this. It's not that I think they are scared to approach me. The men and women of Cerberus aren't scared of many things, but I do feel like a lot of them keep their distance because they think that it's something I want. I'm not exactly the most approachable person in the room.
"I wanted to come and thank you for helping today," he says. "But I got distracted by the potato salad."
"No problem. I needed something to do, and I can only take apart my bike and put it back together again so many times."
"We've been tossing around the idea of starting a couple of softball teams," he continues. "We have enough people that if everyone got involved, we could have enough teams to even have like mini tournaments."
I freeze with my fork a few inches from my mouth.
He looks at me, his smile growing wider before he laughs.
"Not a softball fan, I take it?"
I lower my fork back to my plate.
"Are you asking because you want to know if I want to be on your team or if you want to offer me up to another one?"
He shakes his head. "It's all in good fun. No one team in particular is going to go out and recruit who they think is best so they can try and win every game."
"I don't think I should participate then," I mutter, placing my plate on a nearby table and grabbing my bottle of water.
"Why's that?"
"I'm incredibly competitive. Don't know if I could turn that off. Wouldn't want to ruin anyone else's fun."
He's silent for a moment, eyes roaming the room as he considers what I just said.
"And if Juliet were on an opposing team, would-"
"Did she agree to play?" I ask in a rush, realizing I spoke too quickly for it to go unnoticed.