Page 36 of Theirs to Hunt
She lifts her drink to her lips, then glances toward the window, and for the briefest flicker of a second, I know she sees me.
Not clearly.
Not fully.
But she feels me there.
Her lips quirk.
A third text sent.
Still nothing.
My son forgets himself.
And she's learning exactly how far she can push before the snap.
Let her play.
Let him drift.
Her hand rests on his tentatively as she glances at him coyly.
The stylus I didn't realize I was holding snaps between my fingers, at the same time my patience does.
Indulgence is a luxury neither of them has earned.
Chapter thirty
Reign (Brooks), Thursday 06:51 p.m.
I feel the buzz in my pocket again. The third time. I don’t look.
Reagan tilts her head at me, amused, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“You gonna check that? Might be your girlfriend. Or your parole officer.”
I lean closer, my forearm still braced against the window beside her.
“If it’s important, they’ll wait.”
Her brows lift. “Doesn’t seem very responsible of you.”
“Neither is inviting a strange man to dinner,” I murmur.
“Yet here we are.” She sips her drink slowly, eyes on mine the whole time. “Are you strange?”
“I’m something,” I admit.
“Guess it depends on who’s telling the story.”
“As long as it isn’t Dateline,” she deadpans.
“You neveranswered if you had a girlfriend, or a parole officer. I have to tell you, one I can deal with. The other will make me walk out of here.”
Another buzz. I glance down.
She huffs and rolls her eyes. The impudence will drive Grayson crazy. Me? I love the fire in her.
