Page 42 of Prey Tell
I nod as I pick at my tortilla. “Just post breakup blues.”
He mumbles something unintelligible as he finishes chewing. I take two large swigs of my beer, because I’m not sure I’m brave enough to admit what I’ve been doing with all of my free time. Jackson and I are close, but Chase’s involvement complicates things. So, for now, I decide to stay mum on the subject. I don’t need to give him any more fuel than he already has, thanks to Miles.
“How’s work?” I ask.
“Fine. Though I did have to clean vomit out of a pair of shoes earlier,” he says, smirking.
I wrinkle my nose. “Gross.”
He laughs. “I don’t mind it. I love my kids this year. I’ll be sad to see them move on next month.”
I snort. “And I’m sure you’ll bake your infamous farewell cake?”
“Of course.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” I tell him, and he gives me a small smile before I decide to pry a bit further. “What did you end up checking out with my library card, by the way?” I ask.
He stills for a second before setting down his burrito. Earlier this week, Jackson had asked to borrow my library card so that he could check out a book that Mark—the bartender from my engagement party—had recommended.
“Oh, just this nonfiction book about teachers in America. It’s very enlightening.”
I nod once. “That’s great. And I’m glad you’ve made a new friend,” I tell him gently, wrapping up my burrito.
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve only hung out with him a couple of times,” he says quickly.
“He’s nice. I really liked him when I met him at the party,” I add, choosing my words wisely.
Jackson looks over at me. “He has good book recommendations, and good taste in coffee.” Leaning back, he stares down at his bottle. I continue eating and watching him from the corner of my eye. Good books and good coffee are the way to my brother’s heart. Jackson’s jaw tics as he peels the label—one of his nervous habits.
“It was nice of him to recommend a book to you about your job,” I add, treading carefully. “He must know how much it means to you.”
Jackson turns to look at me. “Yeah, he’s observant.”
I slowly set my beer down on the black stone coffee table. Just as I open my mouth to reply, Miles walks back into the kitchen.
“Sorry, it was Chase.”
Don’t ask, Juliet. Don’t ask—
“Where is Chase, anyway?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can balk in horror at my obviousness.
Miles’ eyes narrow as he studies me. “He’s away for the long weekend.”
I nod as I look down at my old jeans, picking at one of the holes. “A business trip?”
Oh my god, Juliet. Shut. Up.
Miles chuckles, and I snap my head up. It may be the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. His eyes flick over to my brother briefly before they turn back to me.
“No. Not business. He’s hunting at the castle.”
Shivers run down my spine at his words, because Iknowhe’s not talking about the kind of hunt a normal person would think of. My research this week has been extensive, and I’m now pretty well-versed with the predator/prey games people play in the primal community.
I know I should keep my mouth closed, but after two full weeks of neck-breaking research, I amsocurious—and possibly turned on—at the notion of Chasehunting.
Those blue eyes, pinning me to the spot…
Those large hands, running over my naked body…
