Page 66 of Declan
“I’m sorry. You’re right. That was half-assed.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Everything got so fucked up.”
“Why did you do it?”
He groans, drawing it out into a sigh.“I wanted to give you guys a few hours together.”
“To relieve Declan’s guilty conscience?”
His lips twist. “No, to give you time to tell him you’re in love with him.”
30
CARA
I s my mouth hanging open? Pretty sure it is. “Wait…what? I don’t...that’s not...” I mumble. What the hell am I supposed to say? “It’s ok, you know.”
I can’t look at him. “It’s not ok. It’s pathetic.” A horrifying thought occurs. “Did you all know? Did he know? Oh my god, you guys probably gossiped about it behind my back. You’re worse than the water aerobics biddies at the Y.”
His lip curls. “What do you know about water aerobics, Cara?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, staring at the ceiling. Why the hell did I just give him that ammunition? He’s still smirking. “What? It’s really good exercise, ok? Fuck off.”
He’s laughing. Not even trying to hide it. Hanging onto my mad is getting harder and harder as I struggle to contain my embarrassment. Thank fuck, no one else is here for the conversation.
“Do you seriously go to the Y and do water aerobics? How the fuck did I not know this about you?”
“There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about me.” And yes, I go to the Y. Those gossiping biddies are also funny as hell and keep me going back to work out. It’s not cool, so it’s not like I broadcast it, but there you go.
His smile fades. “Yes, I suppose there is.” His jaw clenches and his hands curl into a fist, then loosen, over and over. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I was pissed at you. Then we didn’t have cell services, then we were in a fucking—.”
“Not then,” he says, slashing his hand through the air. “That night. When you were attacked. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Well...Colt was there,” I say dumbly. He knows this, and I have no idea why he’s bringing it up now.
“But what about after? Would you have called me?”
“You’re my boss. I would have called in sick and told you then. “
“But not before?”
“Why would I?”
If I hadn’t spent the last three years reading him, I wouldn’t have seen it. But I do. He flinches. It’s barely there, but for him, it’s the equivalent of Declan tipping out of his chair.
“Ransom, why does that hurt you?” He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “And don’t give me some story. You’re hurt by that, and I want to know why.”
He stands, pacing around the couch, his hands locked behind his neck. I have never seen him like this. It’s a bit like discovering there is no Santa Claus. Ransom’s always felt larger than life, and I don’t recognize this version of him.
“I didn’t expect you, you know,” he says, glancing at me. “By the time you walked in for that interview, I was beyond pissed. I’d spent the morning talking to a bunch of ass-kissing Harvard grads who saw this job as their ticket to something bigger. It was annoying as fuck. Then you walked in.” A small smile plays on his face. “You strolled in wearing that leather jacket and those pointy shoes and told me I was an idiot, and saved my fucking life. If I’d had to hire one of those fuckers, I would be in prison right now. Guaranteed.”
I smile at that because he’s being dramatic, but he’s not wrong. He would have no patience for someone compliant and overly enthusiastic in my role. He needs to be challenged.
“I thought we were a team, Cara.”
“We are,” I say dumbly.
“Then why the fuck didn’t you call me when you needed help? I thought you knew you could depend on me for anything?”
