The Hawthorne's Girl (Now Entering Hillford Book 5) by Piper Lennox

Author:Piper Lennox [Lennox, Piper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piper Lennox
Published: 2020-07-02T16:00:00+00:00

I should have known better.

You can pretend, with your entire heart and soul, that something didn’t happen.

That doesn’t make it true.

The drive home from the party feels endless. Bentley falls asleep as soon as we’re moving, and even the radio and cold wind streaming from the gap in the windows can’t fill the silence enough.

Over and over, my mind wanders to the elevator. This afternoon in my bed.

Starry nights, on the balcony and together in my son’s room, wondering why it feels so right when I finally bring my gaze back to earth and find Gentry Hawthorne beside me.

Like now, when I pull my eyes away from the navy blue sky covering us and study him.

He doesn’t look much like his family. Enough to know there are blood ties, somewhere in there, but not to where you’d notice until it’s pointed out.

He doesn’t act like them, either. Even with his title of the family black sheep, his behavior was never worse than the things Calder did. The difference was that Calder never got caught. He knew how to pretend and suck up to their father, figuring football glory and fake smiles at family dinners would gloss over the rest. And they did.

Gentry lived openly, mistakes available for all to see—though “open” wasn’t the word I would have used at the time.

He was so closed-off to everyone, I couldn’t believe he was Bennett’s brother. Bennett always smiled, rarely complained, and never knew a stranger.

Gentry strived to become, and remain, a stranger to everyone.

Everyone except me, I think, now seeing the day we met in an entirely different light than I ever did before.

And after that day: especially me.

From the corner of my eye, I watch the muscles in his forearm flex against the wheel.

He’s not the kind of guy I would normally be interested in, to say the least. So good-looking it makes you want to redefine “temptation,” sure—but my unimpressive dating catalog is a blur of clean-cut men with preppy names and preppier outfits. Not a scrap of leather or slightly wild haircut in sight.

Even the fun we have together is different. The elements of his personality that I find myself drawn to aren’t what I would list if someone asked my type.

I like his shyness. Even when I have to spend hours chipping it into dust because I know it’s good for him.

I like that his smile reveals itself more in his eyes than his mouth. A spark you have to look for, instead of a stark bulb flash.

I like that he sleeps on my balcony. Content, as always, to occupy the fringes of someone’s life instead of the spotlight.

But now I’m wondering if the fringe is really where he belongs.

“What?” he asks suddenly, and I realize I’ve let my eyes wander to stare at him directly.

I save face by pointing out his window to the stars. “Just checking out the view.”

“You were looking at me.”

There’s that top-of-the-hill feeling again, my stomach suspended in my chest and my heart somewhere near my head, which is never good.

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