Page 77 of Rook

“We, ah,” Rook started, then changed tack. “Charge this to our bill,” he settled on, waving the rolled-up blanket.

The two women shared a knowing look.

“Happens all the time,” they admitted as I studied my feet.

“Do you need anything else from us?”

“No! No, go enjoy your wedding night. We hope you enjoyed your picnic.”

“We did,” Rook said, leading me away.

He pushed me into the passenger seat of my car, setting the blanket on my lap, then going around the car to drive back toward town.

We drove in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

I wouldn’t pretend to know what might be on Rook’s mind.

As for my own, I was a little too stunned to form any truly coherent thoughts.

My body felt both airy and weighted, two things that shouldn’t have been able to coexist. But it was true regardless.

“What the hell is this?” Rook asked, shocking me out of my thoughts. My gaze followed his out of the windshield to find a line of traffic cones blocking the road.

“Oh, maybe we missed a road closure notice…”

“No,” Rook said, letting out an airy laugh.

“Why not?”

“Because this is the only road into town. They can’t close it. This wasn’t the township. This is the club.”

“The club?”

“Notice the only place we can go from here is the clubhouse?”

“Oh,” I said, seeing he was right.

“They probably want to have a little celebration.”

“Okay,” I agreed, even if all I wanted to do was go home, change, climb into bed, and replay what had happened between us. Without letting myself analyze it or ruin it with what-ifs.

“We don’t have to stay long.”

“It’s fine,” I insisted, forcing some pep into my voice. This was his club. They were his brothers. He was likely excited to see them. I had to play my part too if this was going to work. “I will never turn down Detroit’s food,” I said. That, at least, was the truth.

Rook pulled the car into the parking lot as I flipped down the mirror, checking my hair and makeup.

“Ready?” Rook asked as I put the visor back up.

No.

“Yep.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Rook

Honestly, the last thing I wanted was to go to a club party. And I could tell—despite her plastering on a fake smile—Tessa felt the same.

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