Buku Hurt (The Hurt Series, #1) by Lydia Michaels

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Hurt (The Hurt Series, #1) by Lydia Michaels

Author:Lydia Michaels

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: Thriller, suspense, dark romance, psychological, antihero, rape, captive, assault, romantic thriller, Skye Warren, Pam Godwin, Aleatha Romig

Publisher: Bailey Brown Publishing

Published: 2019-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

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Hurt (The Hurt Series, #1) by Lydia Michaels

Chapter Twenty-Three

Saratoga Springs, New York—America

Present Day

 

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Hurt (The Hurt Series, #1) by Lydia Michaels

 

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Hurt (The Hurt Series, #1) by Lydia Michaels

Author:Lydia Michaels , Date: June 7, 2019

,Views: 32

Author:Lydia Michaels

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: Thriller, suspense, dark romance, psychological, antihero, rape, captive, assault, romantic thriller, Skye Warren, Pam Godwin, Aleatha Romig

Publisher: Bailey Brown Publishing

Published: 2019-05-20T16:00:00+00:00
Chapter Twenty-Three

Saratoga Springs, New York—America

Present Day

Her cast was finally off, and despite the lack of mobility that remained in her hand, she felt like celebrating, so she decided to make Callan a surprise dinner.

He claimed to love red meat but said he’d never tasted filet mignon, so she wanted to make him the best steak in the world. A steak for a king.

When he called to say he was leaving the house, she admitted she might have bitten off more than she could chew. Keeping her voice calm, she scooted off the phone and surveyed the damage.

Mashed potatoes dripped off the cabinets, the corn boiled over onto the stove, and her beautiful filets were overdone. He didn’t live far, so she focused on setting the table, using her grandmother’s china, which she never had an excuse to use. She lit long taper candles and set out champagne on ice.

Only when she stepped back and surveyed the dining room did she realize she hadn’t made a dinner for friends.

Despite the ruined food, she’d created a setting for lovers.

“Fuck,” she breathed, gathering up the dishes and taking them back to the hutch. “Ah!” she hit her bad hand on the cabinet and almost passed out from the sharp spike of pain radiating up her arm.

“Em’ry?”

She spun to the door, still holding the plates to her chest.

Callan stood in the hall wearing a gobsmacked stare.

Pain still vibrated her arm, but she gave up trying to tuck away the plates. He insisted she no longer hide a key out front, so she gave him the spare, told him to use it, and he had. Now, it was too late.

“What’s all this?” His gaze swept over the dressed table as he slowly entered the room.

She swallowed and set the plates down. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

His confused stare jumped to her. “This is for me?”

She nodded. “You’ve been such a good … friend to me. I wanted to say thank you. I made you a steak.”

He blinked at her as if she spoke a different language. “I love steak.”

“I know. And mashed potatoes and corn. I even picked up a strawberry shortcake for dessert.”

His brow pinched as he turned back to the table. He lifted the champagne from the ice bucket. “Is this…?”

“Champagne.” She shrank a little. “I…”

His face lifted and he drew in a sharp breath. “Ye got yer cast off today?” He crossed the room and gingerly lifted her hand, turning it carefully.

Her nose crinkled at how thin her fingers had gotten over only a few weeks. “I still can’t move it.”

“Ye will. You’re used to keepin’ it stiff. Does it hurt?”

She nodded. “I accidentally hit it just before you walked in. Instant tears.”

His gaze met hers, his mouth forming a little pout. “No tears.”

“I toughed it out.”

He traced his thumb over the arch of her knuckle. “I cannae believe ye made me dinner.”

“Well,” she said, glancing to the kitchen nervously. “I burnt your dinner and the sides sort of got away from me.

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