Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“You’re up, Daniela,” I say, keeping my voice even.
She lifts her eyes from the cards. “Check.”
Belinda checks too, proud of herself for remembering the move. I toss in a single chip—well, one cheese ball—and say, “One to see the turn.”
Daniela smirks. “Big spender.”
I grin. “I like to live dangerously.”
She scoffs, but it’s playful, and she looks at me a beat too long before she leans forward and reaches into the bowl again. Her fingers graze mine as she pulls one out, and yeah—I feel it. That spark. That low hum under my skin like I’ve grabbed a live wire.
Her fingers are covered again in that neon orange dust. She wipes them on a napkin this time, but not fast enough to stop the thought from sliding through my head.
I want to lick it off.
Every last bit.
Slowly.
I shift in my seat, clearing my throat like it’ll help.
It doesn’t.
Daniela raises a brow. “You good?”
“Fine,” I lie. “Just strategizing.”
“Uh huh,” she says.
I deal the turn card—queen of hearts. Inside, my thoughts are anything but strategic now.
Cheese balls. Freaking cheese balls.
Thank God Belinda is here, or I’d clear this table and fuck Daniela silly.
26
DANIELA
Hawk’s trying so hard to keep it together, but I see the heat in his eyes every time I lick my fingers. The man looks at me like I’m the last meal he’ll ever eat—and I don’t think he’s thinking about the cheese balls.
Which, by the way, Belinda is hoarding like they’re gold coins.
She just won her fifth hand in a row with a smug little grin, stacking cheese balls into a lopsided pyramid. I pretend to be upset, but honestly? I love watching her win. She’s eleven, fierce, and sharp as hell.
“All right,” I say, tossing my cards down. “This is getting out of hand. I think you’re cheating.”
Belinda gasps. “I would never! It’s just beginner’s luck.”
She sticks out her tongue and flicks a cheese ball at me. It bounces off my shoulder and rolls under Hawk’s chair. He doesn’t flinch. Just watches us with that low-burning stare like he’s soaking it all in. Like this—me, Belinda, laughter in the air—brings him an inner sense of peace.
A door creaks open behind us, and we all look up. Natalie, Belinda’s nanny, steps into the room, arms crossed.
“Belinda. It’s past your bedtime.”
Belinda groans, slumping against the table. “But I just became the Cheese Ball Queen.”
Natalie doesn’t blink. “Even queens needs their beauty sleep.”
Belinda pouts and grabs a handful of her winnings. “Can I at least take some to bed?”
I smile and nod. “Go ahead. But don’t tell Vinnie and Raven I let you.”
She scurries over, throws her arms around me in a quick hug, and then darts past Natalie with a smirk and a napkin full of orange contraband.
I look at Hawk.
His eyes haven’t left me.
“I guess that’s the game, then,” Hawk says.
I nod. “I guess so.”
He crosses his arms. “Except…I need to put my clothes in the dryer.”
Right. I forgot about his clothes. Which means he’s staying a while longer.
And that’s fine with me.
“We could…”
“What?” he asks.
“We could wait over in my wing of the house,” I say. “We can bring your wet clothes and put them in my dryer.”
“You have your own dryer?”
“Yeah. I don’t use it a lot. The staff does my laundry.”
He chuckles lightly. “Yeah, I get it. I grew up a Bellamy. We had staff for everything.”
“Yet your mom can pull together a huge dinner by herself?”
“She had a little help from you.”
My cheeks warm. “I didn’t do much.”
He shakes his head. “You did a lot. But yeah, my mom was always hands-on as a wife.”
“And as a mother?” I ask.
He withdraws his hand sharply, looks down.
“Hawk?” I tip his chin up, bring his eyes to mine.
And he looks like I just punched him in the gut.
27
HAWK
Fuck.
Kick to my stomach.
She never had to worry about me.
That’s what Mom always said, like it was praise. Like being the one who didn’t get caught drinking or ditching class, who held his breath during every argument just to keep the peace—like that made me easy to forget.
I was the good one. The reliable one. The one who didn’t make waves.
So she didn’t look at me the way she looked at the others. Not with pride, not with concern—just…not at all. Falcon did everything first and got noticed. Eagle did everything last and got noticed. I followed the rules. I got straight A’s. I tucked in my shirt and said thank you and never once raised my voice.
And it never felt like enough.
She’d brag about the others. One’s a fighter, she’d say. The other’s sensitive. She called them passionate. Complicated. And me?
“He’s always fine.”
I was always fine. Even when I wasn’t.
I remember winning an award in high school—statewide, a big deal. She clapped politely and then left early to pick up Eagle from soccer practice.