Page 12 of Trying Sophie

Chapter Five

Sophie

Declan lookedand sounded genuinely contrite, but it was hard to let go of the anger I’d stored up all these years. And now, this whole conversation had me confused. Half of my brain—the indignant, righteous part—told me to say something that would wipe that dazzling smile off his face, while the other half said to let bygones be bygones and move on with my life.

Wait, what? Dazzling smile? No. No, no, no. Not dazzling.Horrid, horrible, no good, terrible. His terrible, appalling, blindingly gorgeous smile.

Shit.

I’d hated Declan O’Shaughnessy for the majority of my life—loathed him to the very marrow of my bones—but I had to admit his apology had doused some of that white-hot anger. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was because I was ready to forgive and forget, or if it was because the man standing in front of me was one of the handsomest I’d ever laid eyes on. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Had it really come to that?Had my self-imposed celibacy this past year turned me into the type of woman who melted when confronted with the first man who had a way with words?

Apparently it had, and I was, because I felt an almost hypnotic pull to him. There was just something … magnetic … about him that drew my eye—first to his face and then down his strong, powerful body. As much as I wanted to deny it, Declan spoke to me on some primitive level.

I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

My stomach dropped when I raised my eyes and realized he’d caught me savoring every spectacular inch of him. Blushing to the tips of my ears, I tried to speak but my words came out as a squeak. I took a breath, cleared my throat, and tried again.

“I would have been your friend back then. I would have loved to be friends with all of you but you never gave me a chance.”

“I know,” he responded, sliding his hand around the back of his neck and squeezing. “But do you think it’s possible to put the past in the past? Pretend we’re meeting now for the very first time?”

I looked at him skeptically. “Why?”

Declan stared up at the airport ceiling for a quick beat. His chest expanded on a breath and then his hand fell away as he looked me square in the eye. “The truth?”

“Always.”

“Because your grandparents are important to me and I think you’re someone worth knowing.”

Hadn’t I been worth knowing back then too?

“Look, little boys are shits. I think we can agree on that. Back then, I didn’t understand the ramifications of my behavior, and even if someone had told me, I’m not sure it would have mattered. But I’m a man now and I know when someone’s worth having in your life, and I think you’d be a good friend to have Sophie Newport.”

His eyes sought mine and they were filled with … longing. For me. For my friendship.

My heart thundered in my chest as I absorbed his words.

“Friends?” he asked, pushing his hand forward and staring at me intently.

I looked down, my natural instincts battling what my heart told me to do. Deciding to take a leap of faith, I ignored my trepidation and grasped his hand in mine.

“Friends then,” I said, pumping once.

As my hand slid away, his grip tightened and I felt his fingers stroke against my palm as he let me go. My eyes shot up and I glimpsed raw, naked desire flash across his face, before his features shuttered.

After a few seconds of heated silence, Declan cleared his throat and glanced around nervously, his eyes shifting over the crowd. Wordlessly, he grabbed my bag off the top of the cart and hitched it on his shoulder before taking control of the trolley and maneuvering it past a small gathering of people hugging and crying.

“Sorry,” he said, hurrying me along. “But do you mind if we take this somewhere a bit more private? I don’t want to draw a crowd.”

Too late I realized we already had, but I didn’t understand why.

A few feet away two teenage girls whispered behind their hands and pointed. Next, a little kid in a green jersey, probably no more than eight years old shyly approached and, holding out a small notepad and pen, asked for Declan’s autograph. To my surprise, he took the paper and asked the kid’s name before scribbling his signature on a fresh sheet. When he passed it back, the boy squealed and ran back to his parents while waving the notebook around excitedly.

“Hey man,” said a guy about our age who was trailed by three additional men, “do you mind if we get a picture?”

Declan waited no more than a heartbeat to answer, but before he did I watched him square his shoulders. “Sure thing, of course.” He pushed my cart to the side and beckoned me over. “But let’s include Sophie as well.”

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