Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“So, get ready.”
“I brought all my laundry and most of my clothes because I can’t decide what the heck to wear.” She gave Declan a desperate look. “Hey, you’re bi, right? What should a chick wear that says up for whatever the surprise outing is and casual but more than friends?”
Declan blinked, and I waited for him to correct her on the bi assumption and slam that closet door once again. However, he didn’t. Instead, he took on a thoughtful expression as he considered the question.
“Tight jeans, boots, cute top, show a tiny bit of cleavage?” he suggested. “What do you have that might work?”
“Thank you.” Maren gave a dramatic sigh worthy of Rowan’s over-acting. “Can I show you some options?”
“Absolutely.” Declan smiled wide. “I’ve got a younger sister, and I’ve helped plenty of female friends over the years. I can even French braid or work a curling iron.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Maren bounced over to give him a hug. “I’ll go see what I can come up with for clothes options. And figure out what in the heck to give him.”
“What does he like?” I asked. Thus far, I knew Diesel to be a year younger than Maren, blue-haired, tattooed, and possessed zero filter.
“Me. Apparently.” Maren turned a dusky shade of pink. “I mean, punk music. Traveling. Eating strange foods.”
“We’ll bake him something.” Declan had a more decisive tone than usual. “Now, go find some outfit options and give us a fashion show. Then we can talk hair.”
“You’re brilliant.” Maren beamed before scampering out of the room.
“You really are,” I agreed.
“Eh. I just speak fluent teen-to-twenties girl.” Declan shrugged. “Told you, I’m a better friend than boyfriend.”
“That remains to be seen.” I raised my eyebrows at him.
“Didn’t mean you,” Declan mumbled, blushing.
I didn’t think I could like the guy any more than I already did, but watching him with Maren made me fall that much harder for Declan. He helped Maren evaluate various outfit options with a critical eye, yet he also kept things light enough that she continued laughing rather than stressing about her date.
After she’d settled on an outfit, the three of us raided the pantry for a box of sprinkle cake mix. Declan had the idea of decorating the cupcakes to look like monsters with googly eyes and blue frosting rather than something more appropriate for Valentine’s.
While the cupcakes cooled, Declan showed his prowess with a curling iron, and I restrained myself from swooning at his gentleness with Maren.
“You look amazing,” I said once the primping was done. “I’m betting you won’t let me take a pic for your dad.”
“Absolutely not.” Maren’s eyes went wide. “And I…um…might not be back early.”
“I’d be worried if you were.” Declan gave a meaningful chuckle.
“You’re in college,” I added. “I’m not going to tell if you’re gone all night. Just send a text so we know you’re all right.”
“You’re the best.” Maren hugged us both before heading toward the door. As she put on a heavy wool coat, she turned back toward us. “And don’t worry. I’m not gonna tell either.”
With that, she escaped into the night. And she might not tell, but the clock was ticking on someone else finding out who wouldn’t be so discreet.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Declan
“Time is running out.” Joey’s voice in my ear made me wince on multiple levels. I shouldn’t have picked up the phone, but I was sitting at the breakfast nook, noodling with my latest puzzle while I waited to leave for the football fundraiser. Boredom. Got me every time.
“I know.” I’d been avoiding calls from the team, but Joey had known I wouldn’t continue to send one of my oldest supporters to voicemail. And I hated this for him, hated that he’d drawn the short straw to seek an update, and hated that he was also in a holding pattern, waiting for me to be race-ready. We were nearing the end of February. Time was indeed of the essence. “It’s the doctors at this point. I’m still having headaches, so they don’t want to release me from the concussion protocol. The doctors keep saying I’m not ready to ride or race.”
“But you could ride if they signed off?” Joey pressed. Outside, the early evening chill had arrived, or maybe that was simply my reaction to the question.
“Yeah. My foot feels almost normal. No more cane.” I’d graduated to walking in supportive shoes, no boot, at last. Like the first shoots of green showing up for spring, I could feel my old self returning. “I’m done with PT after this week.”
In fact, I was back to doing something resembling actual cardio and weight training. However, I could do without the headache and light sensitivity that intense cardio inevitably brought on. Weights were good as long as I didn’t push the overhead lifts.
“Good, good.” Joey made a sucking sound like he had a piece of gum in his mouth. I clicked another two puzzle pieces in place while waiting for him to continue. “That’s why the manufacturer wants a second opinion on your head.”