Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Once inside, Cy leads us to a booth by the door. The restaurant is bustling with activity. I’m overwhelmed by the savory scents and chatter of the patrons. A waiter brings over some menus, grabs our drink order, and then rushes off. Cy doesn’t open the menu.
I set my menu down to sign. You already know what you want?
He smirks and signs back without speaking. The huevos rancheros. Best thing on their menu.
I skim the menu but decide I’ll have what Cy’s having. When the waiter returns and asks for our order, Cy tells him we want two huevos rancheros entrees. I quirk a brow wondering how he guessed, but he simply shrugs.
Sometimes the bond really, really annoys me.
Rather than letting it sour my mood, I blatantly check people out. A girl probably sixteen or seventeen makes eye contact with me but then blushes, glancing down at her plate. I want to tell her I don’t swing her way but I’d happily be her friend.
But I can’t speak.
I’d have to communicate that some other way because it’s doubtful she knows ASL. Her interest would surely falter when she saw me scribbling out my greeting and explanation or if Cy was forced to interpret for me.
All glee evaporates, and I scowl at my soda.
Cy’s big foot nudges mine beneath the table. I pretend I don’t notice him, so he nudges me again. He hates being ignored, but I’m in no mood to chat. He leans forward, halfway across the table, looming over me. I refuse to look up from the bubbles popping in my drink.
Stubborn brat.
He doesn’t speak the words, but I hear them loud and fucking clear in my head.
Snapping my gaze to his, I pin him with a furious glare that makes his brows lift in surprise. I funnel as much hate as I can muster through our bond, hoping it stabs him and makes him hemorrhage.
“What’s your problem?” Cy grinds out, making no moves to sign to me. “I do something nice for you, and you’re even more pissy than before.”
I shove my middle finger inches from his face so he’ll back off. A growl of warning rumbles from him, making my arm hairs stand on end, but I don’t back down. He snags my wrist in a punishing grip, dragging it down to the table. His thumb presses against my pulse, his blue eyes never leaving mine. The hint of his claw barely breaches his skin, but I can feel it begging to be released.
Wouldn’t that be something?
Cyrus Hames shapeshifting in front of a diner full of people. Then the secret would be out. I could be free. I’m tempted to provoke him just to make it happen. His hold tightens to the point I know I’ll be bruised.
We remain locked in a staring battle for who knows how long. It isn’t until the waiter returns with our food that he releases me and sits back. I want to continue glowering at him, but the food has my complete attention. My stomach grumbles in appreciation. We dive in, both of us eager to eat rather than communicate.
I glance back over at the girl halfway through my meal, and she’s no longer interested in me. It stings, but I decide it’s okay. There are new neighbors I’ll get to meet soon. It’ll be easier to explain my situation when I have time rather than in a rushed, loud setting such as this one.
After we eat, Cy pays for our meal, and we exit the restaurant. I expect him to climb back in the truck, but he takes off walking south, against the bitter wind sweeping off Wolffish Bay and up Main Street. I soon realize where he’s headed. To visit the sheriff. Excitement has me quickening my step, eager to see the police department. When we reach our destination, Cy pushes open the door, holding it for me to pass as he stands in the threshold. I brush against him, inhaling his familiar pine and sage scent. I’d hate it on principle, but it’s always brought me comfort.
A good-looking guy with rugged features lifts his head at our arrival and smiles. He’s incredibly attractive, and my heart skips a few beats. Cy shoots me a confused look, but I ignore it to drink in the sexy sheriff.
To be eighteen again. Boner City. Finnick.
Heat floods to my cheeks, and I dart my stare to the floor. Cy shakes the sheriff’s hand but stands between us, making no move to introduce me. Irritation burns in my gut. Some birthday this is.
Something whimpers, piquing my interest.
“Cato’s upstairs giving Miss Johnson’s dachshund a bath,” the growly sheriff says. “He won’t mind the company while me and your dad have a chat.”
I cringe, snapping my head toward the sheriff. Angrily, I sign, He is not my dad. He’s my warden.