Page 150 of Corpse Roads
Pulling off a snow-dusted denim jacket, he wipes his glasses on the soft fabric of his flannel shirt. Clumps of snow are sticking to his blonde curls, but the smile on his lips is genuine.
“About two hours late,” Hunter drones. “What took you so long? I told Fox and Rayna to cover for you tonight.”
Theo meanders into the room. “Yeah, they are. Phoenix rocked up to drag the two brothers home for dinner. He stole my laptop and blackmailed me into eating with them.”
Leighton chokes on a bite of chocolate as he laughs. Enzo reaches over me to hammer him on the back, also grinning.
“You went over there?” Hunter asks in surprise.
“Brooklyn cooked. Burnt lasagne.”
“Nice.” Enzo chuckles. “She brought some to the office for us last week and watched as we ate it. I gave an Oscar-worthy performance.”
“Brooke brings in lunch now too?” Theo raises an eyebrow. “Huh. I placed bets on them calling the engagement off in the first three months. Dammit.”
“You owe me twenty quid,” Hunter points out. “I have more faith in them. We’ll get her married off to the lot of them yet.”
Toeing off his wet shoes, Theo tentatively pads into the living room. When his blue eyes brush over me, his smile brightens.
“Hey, Harlow. How’re you feeling?”
“Good, thanks. I finished The Picture of Dorian Grey last night, so we need to discuss.”
“I’ll dig my spare copy out,” he says happily. “It’s been a few years. Go for Frankenstein next. You’ll love it.”
“Jesus Christ,” Leighton curses. “Fucking nerds everywhere. Someone kill me.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Enzo threatens. “Nice pink t-shirt, by the way. Very masculine.”
“I’m fully in touch with my masculinity, thank you very much. Mess with my laundry again and I’ll shave your eyebrows while you’re asleep.”
“Children, now now.” Hunter stands up and stretches. “I’m going to get a beer and dig out the pizza menus.”
As he vanishes, I wriggle my way out between the arguing pair of idiots and approach Theo. He’s standing awkwardly, seemingly too nervous to sit down with us.
“I’ll go grab the books I need to give back to you.”
“Harlow, wait.” Returning to his coat, he slides something out of the pocket. “I found this on my lunch break the other day.”
He holds out a slim, leather-bound volume to me. I tentatively take the old book and flip it over, tracing the title with my fingers.
“The Grimm Tales?” I exclaim.
Theo’s cheeks flush. “I know it’s your favourite of the books I lent you. This is an illustrated edition.”
Thumbing through the book, the beautiful, hand-drawn pictures take my breath away. It’s beautiful.
“Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing,” he rushes out.
Before he can run away screaming, I gently wrap my arms around his waist. Theo freezes like a pillar of ice, and I can feel the rapid pumping of his chest with each panicked breath.
It takes a full thirty seconds for his arms to band around me, but when they do, he pulls me close against his narrow waist. The scent of spearmint and old books clings to him like a second skin. It’s so soothing.
“No, thank you,” I repeat.
“You’re welcome.”