Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
While we’re still holding each other, he tells me, “Varrick Wolfe wasn’t going to stop outbidding Jake. I thought there was a chance that if I bid on you, he might back out.”
“Which he did. So what does that mean?”
“Three guesses,” Rocky says. “One. He hates Jake and was just trying to bleed him of money.” The way he speaks, it seems like he believes this option less. “Two. He wanted to show the town that he holds more power than the Konings.”
“Probable,” I say. “And three?”
Rocky goes silent again, and I step away to see the apprehension warp his face. Especially as he says, “He was toying with me.”
“What?”
“He got off on it. On the game.”
“But he lost.”
“I don’t know, Phebs. Something isn’t right.” Rocky stares right at me, but there is a haunted tunnel inside his grays that pulls him farther away. “It’s almost like he sees me, like he knows what I am, and he…”
“He what?” I’m caging breath.
“He respects it.” He crawls through his thoughts. “That smile he gave me—before he lost. It was pride.”
I tug the Clue Girl sash away from my neck, feeling choked. “Hailey said we need to look deeper into the Wolfe family.”
“No shit.” He rests his ass on the silver bar that helps people lower onto and rise off the toilet. The bathroom is tiny, but I press my back to the graffitied door, letting a few feet of space separate us.
With the intimate way he’s looking at me, it still feels like he’s right up against my body.
“What now?” I ask him.
He removes his hands from his jacket, then flicks this stupid gold coin at me with his thumb.
I catch it. “Trying to pay me to go away?”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m doing when I just paid forty-two grand for you to stay.”
“Burning all your cash on me. I’m flattered.”
“Not all of it.”
“Cheapo depot.”
He begins to smile, and my heart rate elevates. As he glances at the coin in my hand, I inspect the foil.
My head snaps to him. “This is fake.” It’s obvious by the weight.
“It’s definitely not real.”
I peel at the foiled edge, and I tear the gold film off to find chocolate underneath. The center is pressed with a pink heart and arrow.
Valentine’s chocolate. Smoothing my lips together, I battle the surge of an overwhelming smile. He tilts his head, a little more than just satisfied at my reaction. He’s devouring every piece of me.
“How much did this cost you? Like fifty cents?”
“I bought a whole bag at the gift shop. More like three bucks.”
“Wowww,” I draw out. “You know how to woo a girl.”
“I know how to woo you,” he says. “Fake coins and strawberry things.” Is it strawberry flavored? I can’t even ask. My throat swells with more sentimental emotion.
I look up at Rocky. It’s simple. The act of being remembered while you’re passing a store. For as complex and twisted as our lives are, the simplicity of love strikes me to the core. Love doesn’t have to always be pain.
“Fair warning,” he says, “I ate one, and the chocolate is fucking gross.”
“That’s probably because you’re a chocolate snob.”
He doesn’t deny it. Truth be told, Rocky just loves chocolate, so he can tell what’s bottom of the barrel.
He watches me peel off more foil so the entire heart comes into view. My eyes well over a basic thing.
Rocky knows I have an admiration for the counterfeit, and maybe that’s why the reality of what we are together is as compelling as the many layers we’ve created on top of it.
“Thanks for spending three bucks on me,” I say, meaning to be sarcastic, but my emotion softens my voice.
A smile reaches the darkness of his gaze. “You’re not going to thank me for the forty-two grand?”
“Oh no, that’s on you, buddy.”
His laughter causes mine to rise out of me, and I could bathe in the bright sound we create together.
Literal warm fuzzies—that’s what he just gave me. It’s so strangely comforting, I wish this feeling could be bottled and purchased through a vending machine.
He scrutinizes the door behind me. The idea of leaving isn’t as enticing as staying here.
We linger together. It’s what we’ve always done.
“How badly do you want to win this scavenger hunt thing?” I wonder after I wrap the coin carefully back in the foil and slip it into Jake’s coat pocket. I won’t forget it.
He raises his brows. “You really have to ask?”
I shrug, starting to smile. “I thought being dubbed the Huntsman might do it for you—it’s pretty in line with your MO.”
“My MO?” He nods to me. “Which is?”
“Hunting prey. Being the predator.”
“Maybe if we were hunting something worthy of being caught. Fake geese don’t do it for me. But for you…”
“Oh, I love a goose replica.”
“Knew it. Fake wife.” He holds my gaze for so long that we’re both smiling again.