Page 169 of White Raven
“You shootin’ from the hip, there, Stratford?”
He straightened, feigning pain as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
“These fucking shoes woundme. Never again. Not even for you.” Her little shrimp toes wiggled in his lap, and he warmed them with his other hand.
“They’re overrated,” he grinned, taking another lick.
She stared off at the building. “I feel like you’re gonna miss all this, Brent.” He paused his assault on the heavenly hash, and she met eyes with him, lowering her ice cream, and brushing her hand over his suit. “The suits. The women more adjusted to your lifestyle.” Her hand waved towards the courthouse. “The job. I know things happened, and we can never go back to who we were before that mansion…but aside from all the pinstripe, pompous ego…I also know you worked your ass off to get where you were. You’re really okay with letting all that go, and being a nobody in Denver?”
He squeezed his hand around her foot and rubbed gently. “You know, Wren…it might have never occurred to you that I was a little less than happy back then. Even before the mansion. You’re Sarah’s best friend. Regardless of what I did to her, or why we met in the first place…I never really made her happy, and you know that just as well as I do. You spent two years trying to get her to see it.”
For once in her life, she was silent…watching his every move.
“I would have never admitted that I was miserable back then. I told you that night in the car…this was never a show. Every night that I refused to stay at Sarah’s apartment, I’d go back to the penthouse, and I’d never be able to sleep. Not because of what I knew I was doing to her on my dad’s behalf, but because I knew deep down that I was never gonna fit that mold. My mom knew it too. I’m a good lawyer. I did bust ass at Harvard. I respect the law, and every case I closed…Wren, that might have been the onlyhonestthings I’d ever done. I wanted to help people. I didn’t work criminal cases, because I cared toomuch. That was the real reason I lost my shit on that murderous piece of—” Brent shook his head, and bit down on his lip, recalling the face of the bastard that snuffed out a life without a second thought…all for a bit of loose change. “I really thought I wanted my name on the door once. I really did. But when C.J. came to the apartment that day…it was so clear to me then, that walking back through those doors wasn’t as fulfilling as leaving them behind.”
“What made you so sure?” she asked quietly.
Brent raised his face to look at her—reallylook at her…and in that moment she was the most beautiful thing in the world to him. Not just because he knew without a doubt that he loved her, but because Wren Vintorri, and everything they were about to experience together—thatwas his future. Bright. New. Fresh.
Unruly and red.
Brent smiled, raising his ice cream back up to his mouth. “A big-ass head of red hair, and a wrinkled, white button-down shirt.”
He didn’t even see it coming.
His ice cream smashed into his face, and his nose was full of heavenly hash. Brent’s mouth gaped open, and his eyes went wide as Wren cackled next to him, leaning forward and palming her stomach. He saw the opportunity, and he jumped on it, dropping his cone to the concrete, and pushing her face down onto her own ice cream. When she abruptly stopped laughing, and looked up, the red in her hair complimented strawberry smush,dead-center…in her nose, across her cheeks, and a nice glob of it hung in her hair. Brent exploded, ice cream flying from his face as she glared at him with murder in her eyes.
“Oh, you’redead, Stratford!” Wren laughed, giving chase in her bare feet as he bolted from the fountain towards the car.
He jingled the keys in the air, howling as he ran, and people started to stare when he called over his shoulder. “See you inDenver!”
“I hope you retained every morsel of information from fucking divorce law, bitch!” He could tell by her voice, she was gaining on him, and between his laughing, and the restraint of thisfuckingsuit…
He ‘oofed’ into the side of the car as Wren tackled him, giggling like a mad woman. He turned his body and threw his arms around her, melted hues of ice cream dripping from their chins as they devoured each other’s lips. The familiar sound of shutters flying off surrounded them, and without a single thought, or plan…they both threw a middle finger up, never breaking their kiss.
“I’d never miss any of that shit as much as I’d miss this, Wren,” he whispered into her mouth.
“Had enough of Boston, bitch-boy?”
The car chirped, and he hoisted her up around his hips, grinning from ear-to-ear as he made his way around the hood.
“Enough for a fucking lifetime.”
“Since when do peopleevertip this much on delivery?” Brandon asked, wincing at the receipt as he started unloading their dinner from the large bag. Rhaena shifted on Brent’s couch, pulling the cozy blanket tighter around herself.
“Since they started living in an apartment building that’s in an entirely different tax bracket,” she snorted.
“This isnota hundred dollars worth of food.”
She grinned and rolled her eyes, twisting the silver ring on her forefinger underneath the blanket. It was the firstgenuine smile she’d had for days. “Is that a gray hair I see sticking out up there?”
He went still, with a takeout container in each hand. “You did not.”
“That’s the oldest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” she giggled, reaching an arm out for her food. He moved it out of her reach, and she gaped. “Gimme that!”
“Oh, I think not,alpha,” he purred, raising a brow. “You best take that back.”
“Or I canmakeyou hand it over. You know better than to make a move between me and my food, Brandon Jenkins.”
