Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Rocky was the most irritable, but that’s to be expected. He never loved the godmothers the way that we did. The way that we still somewhat do.
Oliver has a hand on my lower back. It’s casual, reassuring. I’ve always liked his touch. His gaze falls to my phone, which he’s clutching. He reads my mom’s text aloud: “Where is Cogsworth?” He arches his brows at me. “I thought my sister told Addison to stop with the riddles?”
“Phoebe thinks they’re distressing me, but uncovering a riddle isn’t what’s distressing. It’s the fact that she’s saying I’m late.” I pull out of his reach and find heels at the bottom of my closet, explaining fast: “Cogsworth is the clock from Beauty and the Beast. She’s reminding me to check the time.”
“I know what the text meant,” he says easily while skimming the length of me. “I’m not the rich boy who needs a Tinrock-Graves history book.” It would sound like a jab at Jake if it weren’t for his lighthearted tone and inching smile.
“I didn’t think you were Jake.” Though, I do explain a lot to Jake Waterford. Because he wasn’t raised as a con artist like us, but he’s been an ally. I nuzzle my toes into dark velvet heels. Not appropriate for springtime, but it’ll work. “Oh.” I drop down and inspect my toes. “No.”
Oliver strolls closer. “Did you grow a sixth toe? The magical marvel of Hailey Tinrock.”
“I’m not a polydactyl. Just a girl with the ugliest chipped toenail polish.” I pick at the black flakes on my big toe. “Shit. We’re going to a five-star restaurant. I think the cheapest thing on the menu is fifty bucks. My mom is going to make a comment.”
“Is the point to try to please her?”
“No, I just don’t want to spend half the lunch hearing, ‘This is why you should be a part of the elite and not the working class. So you can afford a basic pedicure.’ ”
“Fair enough.” He dips his head close to mine, his lips ghosting against my ear as he whispers, “Let’s venture to the bathroom.” Every secret he shares with me sounds sexual, and likely it’s because we have a sexual relationship.
We are sex partners.
And I’m carrying his baby. Maybe.
Maybe this baby is Jake’s—but these facts are changing…things. Things have changed, Hailey. He doesn’t know it yet, and guilt tries to pummel me.
Later.
Later.
I’ll tell him later.
“Okay,” I breathe. Okay. I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. I have horrible “tells” in comparison to Oliver, Phoebe, and Rocky—those three are masters of deception. I’m not great. They can all see when anxiety mounts like I’m ascending Everest without an oxygen tank.
Oliver hooks his finger with mine, and I pop into focus as he guides me out of the room and to the only bathroom.
No one else is in the loft this morning. Just us.
While I hurriedly comb a brush through my hair, Oliver leans against the sink, a little slouched as he cups my ankle and paints my toes with metallic black polish I picked out. I balance well, but every time I teeter, he lifts the brush off my nail and slides his other hand up my bare calf, clutching me tighter.
Feeling him stabilize me steals my breath once or twice.
The sensual look he slips me isn’t helping. His I know how to fuck you into oblivion eyes are enticing. He entices me, and I can’t…I’m late. Like, in every worst way a person can be late, I’ve been late.
“It’s in Rhode Island,” I mention, using my comb to create a center part in my hair. “The lunch.”
“An hour away.”
“Yeah, I’m meeting Phoebe.”
“You want me to drive you?”
“No, no. I’m capable. I can drive.” I’ve always been one of the better drivers among our families.
He dips the brush into the polish. “Of course you can, Hailstorm.” The smile in his voice is fuel when I’m on empty. I’m eager to receive his faith in me, even if it’s manufactured purely to make me feel good. I don’t care.
I love how my lungs swell with his encouragement.
Our eyes fasten in a quiet, easygoing beat, and I want to ask where he’ll be today. I’m afraid he’ll say, With Collin Falcone.
Collin was Trent Waterford’s former best friend. I hate that Olly’s role has been to pry Collin away from the firstborn heir, which enabled Rocky to become Trent’s number one BFF.
Unfortunately, Collin is a cokehead. Which means Oliver has had to partake in these hedonistic, drug-fueled nights reserved for bored trust-fund babies like Collin.
Every time I’ve surfaced the possibility of a role switch, Oliver says, “This is where I need to be, Hails. You even said it yourself. It’s the best position.”
Best position for the job. I didn’t mean it was best for him. But for Oliver, they might as well be one and the same. He’s a lot like his sister, Phoebe, in that way. Willing to take the harder tasks if the outcome means success for the team.