Page 122 of Unspoken Words
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Connor?” My eyes travelled his body: white tee, leather jacket, black jeans. He was James Dean incarnate minus the cigarette, a smile so rogue, so sinister and sexy, that just looking at him no doubt placed me on Santa’s naughty list.
“H—hi,” I stuttered, swallowing hard. “What are you doing here?”
He ran his hand through his hair and glanced over my shoulder. “Returning your notebook.”
Connor took a step closer, his eyes settling on mine once again, and held it out to me.
“Thanks.” I lowered my voice. “But you didn’t have to bring it here. I could’ve just got it from you on Monday.”
“But I thought you might need it before then.” He looked past my shoulder again, and I knew exactly whom he was searching for.Damn, sneaky, calculated, shithead.
Snatching the notebook from him, my smile was anything but sincere. “I don’t need it, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Connor winked and stepped around me, entering the house.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, just as Byron entered the hallway.
“Elle, is everything okay?”
“Yes, of course.” I smoothed my hands down my jeans. “Byron, this is Connor. I mean, Saxon Reed, the musician I’m collaborating with. Connor, this is my boyfriend, Byron.”
“Oh.” Byron held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Connor shook Byron’s hand even though ‘likewise’ wasn’t the vibe rolling off his tense body, his handshake firm, his stare, firmer.
Mum entered the hallway, pleasant surprise twinkling her eyes. “Connor, darling, I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Hi, Beth. I wasn’t. Ellie left her notebook at the studio yesterday, so I thought I’d drop it off on my way home.”
I held it up and waved it to Mum and Byron, as if to validate Connor’s story. “And that was very kind of you,” I said, smiling through gritted teeth. “But you really shouldn’t have.”
Connor leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. Casual. “It was nothing.”
“How’s Max’s arm?” Mum asked as she wiped her hands on the tea towel she was holding before draping it over her shoulder.
“Good! Really good. His cast comes off next week.”
“That’s wonderful news. I bet Max can’t wait to be rid of it.”
Connor laughed. “I don’t know about that. He thinks he’s Iron Man.”
“I bet he does.” Mum gestured we all head toward the living room. “Would you like to come in? We just finished dinner but I do have plenty of pie to go around.”
Damn it, Mum. No.
“Beth Mitchell’s infamous home-cooked pie?”
She winked, proud. “The one and only.”
Connor groaned. “I’d love to, but I really should get going.”
“Nonsense.” She swished her hand.
“Mum.” I pierced her with my stare. “Connor just said that he needs to go.”
She quickly glanced at Byron then to me and to Connor. “Right. Sorry. Maybe some other time.”
