Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“This is Madden,” Elton said around a mouthful of whatever he’d taken from the snack cabinet. “Ms. Donahue next door? That’s his aunt. He’s visiting.”
“Oh.” Skylar’s face was the color of pizza sauce as she fidgeted to face the tall, silent new guy. “Are you here early for Thanksgiving break, or something?”
Madden cleared his throat. “We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in Ireland.”
Eve’s fingertips started to tingle. It wasn’t just that he had an accent. A gorgeous one with inflections in unexpected places and lilts in others. No, it was deep. Deep as the black sky she stared into at night, focusing on the vast, bottomless well of ink until the stars disappeared in her periphery. There was some hesitance in his tone, as well, that she understood. Most of Elton’s friends would already be digging in the refrigerator, entitled to whatever they got their hands on, but this guy would barely enter the kitchen.
Please don’t be an asshole, Eve found herself wishing.
A ridiculous wish that wouldn’t come true. And who cared, anyway?
She refocused on her work.
“Are you going to tell me their names, or should I guess?” Madden asked, with the barest touch of humor.
He’s still looking at me.
Eve could feel it. And a quick peek confirmed she was right.
Maybe . . .
Maybe Elton had already told him about her father.
That would explain why he continued to stare at Eve.
“Fine.” Elton sighed. “This clown is my stepsister, Skylar. She’s a decent pitcher or I would have thrown her annoying ass out by now.”
“Decent?” sputtered Skylar. “I could strike you out in my sleep—”
“And that’s her friend Eve,” Elton said loudly, throwing an empty Fritos bag at Skylar.
Eve gave a tight smile without looking up from her work.
“Hi, Skylar.” Then, in a rumble, he added, “Hello, Eve.”
A ripple moved upward from Eve’s toes, culminating in a feathery sensation in her belly. Suddenly, she needed to get out of there. She’d learned very early not to expect too much good from people, but if this guy was giving her extra attention for the reason she suspected, she didn’t want it. So ridiculous to be disappointed in someone with whom she could barely make eye contact, right?
Right.
Eve started to gather her things. “Oh, um. I just remembered . . .” Might as well beat him to the punch. “My dad needs me to line up the music for tonight.”
Skylar nodded, her expression giving nothing away. “Okay.”
“Eve’s dad owns Cat Fight. That strip club just off Pendleton Street at the edge of town,” Elton said absently, his head buried in the fridge, rooting around for a soda. “She very rudely refuses to sneak me in.”
“Elton . . .” Skylar sighed, witheringly. “Can you not?”
“Can I not, what? I’m sixteen. Her dad owns a place where women get naked. I’m not supposed to think about it twenty-four hours a day?” He took a swig of his all-natural soda and winced, looking at the label. “Back me up on this, Madden.”
Eve tucked her hair behind one ear and continued to gather up her things. “Go ahead,” she murmured. “Ask me if I’m going to work the pole one day. I’m sure you’re dying to know.” The ensuing silence caused her to add, “Everyone asks. It’s fine, really.”
Liar. It wasn’t fine. It’s why she dreaded going to school every morning.
Madden’s brow knit together, but he said nothing.
Blue.
His eyes were a deep, sapphire blue.
“Eve?” Elton steepled his fingers in prayer. “I’m also willing to do part-time work, if your dad needs a busboy.”
“He doesn’t,” she breezed.
“Boobs.”
Skylar threw a stylus at her stepbrother’s head, hitting her target. “Dude. Shut up.” She pushed back her chair. Then to Eve, “I’ll walk you to the end of the driveway.”
“You really don’t have to.”
Her friend was already moving in her purposeful bounce toward the archway that separated the kitchen from the front of the house. “Nice to meet you, Madden,” Skylar said. “Don’t let him and his douchey friends rub off on you.”
Instead of responding to Skylar, Madden looked Eve in the eye as she passed. “I won’t.”
The weirdest thing happened. Eve believed him.
Walking by Madden on her way out was like journeying past an open doorway that led to a babbling brook and fallen, moss-covered logs. A nighttime sky overhead. The chirping of crickets. Peace and mystery embodied in a human being. Eve couldn’t tell if her steps slowed as she brushed by his sturdy frame or if she imagined time turning lethargic, her skin growing hot and feverish when those blue eyes studied her. Studied her throat and cheeks and the fist around her backpack strap.
A moment later, when Eve emerged from the house in front of Skylar, she had to stop herself from gasping for air out loud.
“Holy shit. Holy shit,” said Skylar, speed walking up beside her. “I can’t believe there is a fine-ass Irish guy in my house. What planet is this? Did I act okay? Did I say anything dumb?” She fanned herself furiously, even though the outside temperature was in the forties. “Do you think he would go for me, even though I’m a freshman?”