Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“Does it look like I knew?” I snapped.
He gulped. “This side of you is both terrifying and oddly sexy. My body is very confused right now. Do I run or do I stay?”
I gave him a sweet smile. “Stay. You might get rewarded.”
He groaned. “Damn, I like that look. Way too much.” Clearing his throat, he waved at the bartender. “Two shots of tequila. Easy on the limes—she’s sensitive.”
I glared. “Cut them like hamburgers, Bob. And keep them coming.”
The bartender scowled. “It’s Bobby. And we’ve been on two dates.”
I waved him off. “It was Bob then. It’s Bob now.”
He nodded solemnly to Aaron. “Good luck, man. Really. I’m rooting for you.”
I tried to disappear behind the leather-vested giant, but Ezra’s gaze swept the bar anyway.
And then it landed.
On me.
On Aaron.
On our still-joined hands resting on the sticky table.
His entire body went rigid. The joking smile he’d given Lila evaporated. His jaw ticked once, twice, like he was grinding his teeth down to dust.
Aaron, blissfully unaware, lifted our shots. “To new beginnings,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.
I didn’t drink. Couldn’t. Because Ezra was already moving. Leaving Lila mid-sentence, striding straight toward me like a storm in black denim.
“Harper.” His voice was low, rough. Dangerous.
Aaron blinked. “Uh, hey, man—”
Ezra’s eyes didn’t even flicker toward him. They were locked on me. Dark. Furious. Hurt.
“You don’t get to look at me like that,” I snapped, shoving back from the table so hard my chair screeched. “You don’t have the right.”
His nostrils flared, a challenge written all over him. My whole nervous system went red alert.
“Oh, I think I have every right,” he said, stepping closer. Close enough for me to see the muscle in his jaw twitching, straining.
My laugh came out sharp, brittle. “Every right? You lied to me, Ezra. You swore it was just us. No cameras. No games. And then I find myself plastered online like a highlight reel. And then you—God—you’re like, hey, see where it goes, see where it goes!” My voice cracked, rising. “SEE WHERE IT GOES!”
Yeah, I was yelling. Definitely yelling.
“I didn’t know.” His voice broke, just a fraction, enough to slice me open. “Harper, I didn’t know they were filming. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. We weren’t supposed to happen like that.” His gaze flickered, just once, to Aaron. “And I want what’s best, you know that. And I’m an ass, you also know that. I think with my brain, not my heart—it’s not something a guy leads with. Logic. Plus, had I been like, hey, let’s have a deep conversation about—”
“—You mind?” Aaron cut in, sharp. “We’re kind of still on a date here, and you’re getting all personal. Explode your sadness and go alpha on your own time, yeah…cupcake?”
Ezra froze. Then blinked once. “Did you just nickname me after a confectionary?”
Aaron leaned back, calm as anything. “Seemed to fit.”
Ezra’s hands came up in a mock-surrender that did nothing to hide the glare he leveled at Aaron.
And then—heels. Lila’s. Clicking across the floor like a death knell. She slid up beside Ezra, manicured hand curling around his arm like a claim.
“Ezra,” she purred. “What’s going on?”
I laughed, but it came out jagged, closer to a sob than anything sane. Good. Her. “Yeah, Ezra. What’s going on?”
Was that my voice? The homicidal one? Ha ha. Cute. Totally fine. I kept my claws at bay, but why—why in the ever-loving fires of hell—was this woman hanging off him? Ezra wasn’t the casual type. He didn’t do hookups. He was the guy who could have been a priest in another life—commitment issues in the opposite direction.
He wasn’t the “call up an old flame” type. He was the “change his number, bury the SIM card six feet under, and create a color-coded spreadsheet so he never had to deal with drama again” type. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been shocked if he had a secret FBI folder labeled PAST EZRA: DO NOT OPEN.
Lila glanced between us, brows arched. “So…this doesn’t feel tense at all.”
“It’s not,” we all said in unison.
Aaron cleared his throat and reached for my arm. “Hey. It’s getting late. You wanna just go?”
Ezra’s eyes snapped to Aaron’s hand like a hawk locking on prey. If Aaron had been holding anything remotely resembling a weapon, Ezra probably would’ve used it. His voice dropped, low and lethal.
“No. You really don’t have the right.”
And that’s when—all hell, dear God—broke loose.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
HARPER
What else rhymes with bed? I’m writing you a song, I know, so hot. But seriously, all I can think of is Fred rhymes with bed and well...I’m not gay and I don’t know a Fred.
—Rex, from the one-man-band, Rex is Sex.
The second Ezra said, “You don’t have the right,” Aaron shot to his feet.
“Hey, man, back off.” Aaron slid between us like he was some kind of human shield.