Read Online Slate (Breaking the Declan Brothers #2) by Kelly Gendron - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kelly Gendron
Ads: Link
grin. “I was a sap.”
“Yeah, but you were a sweet sap,” I say, picking up a piece of toast and taking a bite. He turns back to the stove to flip the eggs. “So…” I swallow the dry toast. “You feel better?”
He doesn’t say anything, but nods his head.
“Do you have any more drugs on you?”
“No,” he says, placing his hands on the counter; his shoulders lift and his head lowers.
“And are there any hidden down here?”
His head lifts, and with his back to me, he shakes his head. “No.”
“Okay, I’m going to trust you,” I say, committing again to my decision to help him. “I’m not leaving, Slate. We have two more days, so get it together.”
He turns around and places a plate of perfect eggs with a side of bacon in front of me. “Eat,” he says, brushing his hands together. He looks up from the plate and stares at me for a quiet moment. “Want some orange juice? I think there’s some in the fridge, or there’s coffee.”
“Coffee, please.” I smile, glad he’s ready and willing to give this another shot.
“Oh-ho, look at you, all grown up,” he teases. “You like coffee, now?”
“Yes, I do.” I tilt my head, grinning. “In fact, I do all kinds of grown-up stuff now.”
“Huh, I’d like to see some of those grown-up things.”
“Yeah, I bet you would.” My cheeks flush with heat. “But it was Emmie who got me hooked on coffee when she moved in with me in Manhattan. And now, I can’t live without it.”
“Milk,” he asks again with his back to me while pouring my coffee.
“Just a splash,” I say.
He reaches in and pulls the milk out of the fridge. “Manhattan, huh? What were you doing there?” With slightly shaky hands, he pours the milk in my coffee and comes over to the nook carrying two coffee mugs. I watch the shaking mugs and realize that he’s not as calm as he’s portraying. He’s fighting the withdrawals and trying real hard to hide it.
“Working.” I apprehend the coffee as he hands it to me and then take a sip of the steamy liquid.
“Yeah?” He sets his mug down. “At which school?”
“Oh, no, I’m not doing that type of social worker stuff anymore. I was working as a mediator at a divorce attorney’s office. I’d act as the go-between for the divorcees.”
“Really?” His brow lifts as he settles on a stool.
“Yeah, I love it.” My eyes roam his body, the muscles rippling under his t-shirt quickening my pulse. His biceps and tatts bulge from the cut of his sleeves. At least he’s not trying to hide his scars from me any longer. I want to ask him about last night, ask who Joey is, but he’s actually being nice. He’s acting a little like the old Slate, and I don’t want to push it.
He picks up his mug. His forearm muscles ripple as he takes a swig of his coffee. Damn. He’s all grown up now too, and for as messed up as he is, he’s still able to pull off gorgeous and prevailing. “So, you’re not married,” he casually asks. I shake my head, surprised that he’s interested in knowing. “Got a fiancé, boyfriend, or anyone waiting back in Manhattan for you?”
“No. I just ended a two-year relationship and quit my job; there’s nothing at all waiting for me in Manhattan except my apartment.”
“What happened,” he sets his mug down, “with the guy?”
“I don’t know. He asked me to marry him, but,” I shrug, “my heart just wasn’t in it.”
He looks at me for a second with an expression I can’t figure out. “And the job?”
“Well,” I swirl my finger along the edge of my coffee cup, “the guy was one of the lawyers at the law firm I worked at, and I thought it best to leave them both behind. But,” I look up, “I have an interview next week in Santa Fe for a mediator job, and that’s what I really want to do. I’m going to see what happens.”
“You’re going to move back here,” he says, and I hear the slight hitch in his voice.
“I’m gonna check it out, and like I said,
“Yeah, but you were a sweet sap,” I say, picking up a piece of toast and taking a bite. He turns back to the stove to flip the eggs. “So…” I swallow the dry toast. “You feel better?”
He doesn’t say anything, but nods his head.
“Do you have any more drugs on you?”
“No,” he says, placing his hands on the counter; his shoulders lift and his head lowers.
“And are there any hidden down here?”
His head lifts, and with his back to me, he shakes his head. “No.”
“Okay, I’m going to trust you,” I say, committing again to my decision to help him. “I’m not leaving, Slate. We have two more days, so get it together.”
He turns around and places a plate of perfect eggs with a side of bacon in front of me. “Eat,” he says, brushing his hands together. He looks up from the plate and stares at me for a quiet moment. “Want some orange juice? I think there’s some in the fridge, or there’s coffee.”
“Coffee, please.” I smile, glad he’s ready and willing to give this another shot.
“Oh-ho, look at you, all grown up,” he teases. “You like coffee, now?”
“Yes, I do.” I tilt my head, grinning. “In fact, I do all kinds of grown-up stuff now.”
“Huh, I’d like to see some of those grown-up things.”
“Yeah, I bet you would.” My cheeks flush with heat. “But it was Emmie who got me hooked on coffee when she moved in with me in Manhattan. And now, I can’t live without it.”
“Milk,” he asks again with his back to me while pouring my coffee.
“Just a splash,” I say.
He reaches in and pulls the milk out of the fridge. “Manhattan, huh? What were you doing there?” With slightly shaky hands, he pours the milk in my coffee and comes over to the nook carrying two coffee mugs. I watch the shaking mugs and realize that he’s not as calm as he’s portraying. He’s fighting the withdrawals and trying real hard to hide it.
“Working.” I apprehend the coffee as he hands it to me and then take a sip of the steamy liquid.
“Yeah?” He sets his mug down. “At which school?”
“Oh, no, I’m not doing that type of social worker stuff anymore. I was working as a mediator at a divorce attorney’s office. I’d act as the go-between for the divorcees.”
“Really?” His brow lifts as he settles on a stool.
“Yeah, I love it.” My eyes roam his body, the muscles rippling under his t-shirt quickening my pulse. His biceps and tatts bulge from the cut of his sleeves. At least he’s not trying to hide his scars from me any longer. I want to ask him about last night, ask who Joey is, but he’s actually being nice. He’s acting a little like the old Slate, and I don’t want to push it.
He picks up his mug. His forearm muscles ripple as he takes a swig of his coffee. Damn. He’s all grown up now too, and for as messed up as he is, he’s still able to pull off gorgeous and prevailing. “So, you’re not married,” he casually asks. I shake my head, surprised that he’s interested in knowing. “Got a fiancé, boyfriend, or anyone waiting back in Manhattan for you?”
“No. I just ended a two-year relationship and quit my job; there’s nothing at all waiting for me in Manhattan except my apartment.”
“What happened,” he sets his mug down, “with the guy?”
“I don’t know. He asked me to marry him, but,” I shrug, “my heart just wasn’t in it.”
He looks at me for a second with an expression I can’t figure out. “And the job?”
“Well,” I swirl my finger along the edge of my coffee cup, “the guy was one of the lawyers at the law firm I worked at, and I thought it best to leave them both behind. But,” I look up, “I have an interview next week in Santa Fe for a mediator job, and that’s what I really want to do. I’m going to see what happens.”
“You’re going to move back here,” he says, and I hear the slight hitch in his voice.
“I’m gonna check it out, and like I said,
Similar Books
