Free Chasing Serenity (Seeking Serenity) by Eden Butler Page B

her out upstairs.”
    “She sent me down here.”
    Great. Note to self: pencil in the best friend for a lecture. An armful of books has me staggering, but I find an empty box behind the bookshelf and move it in front of me with my foot. Declan watches me. It’s a feeling I’m unaccustomed to. There is the sense of a substantial weight on my skin, the warmth of awareness inching over my body, that sensation that someone notices every twitch of your fingers, all the small gestures that you make without realization.
    The sound of the broken ladder being picked up is to my right and I get the distinct feeling Declan is distracted in his task. I try not to let him affect me. Mentally, I prepare myself for his superior smirk or whatever sarcastic insult he’s going to use. I’m sure it’ll involve my incompetence or my idiotic notion that I could use a rickety ladder to pull down a hundred pounds of books.
    But he doesn’t speak, doesn’t utter a single insult and, to my great surprise he isn’t even complaining to himself. Curious, I look over my shoulder and notice his eyes on me.
    “What?” I return to the books lying on the floor. He only shakes his head and helps me gather up the mess. His silence has me on edge. From my brief experience with him, he always has a sarcastic remark or a lewd comment to make.
    Dismissing him and his constant leer, I reach for another box, this one just above eye level and as I stretch for it, Declan moves over me and grabs the box with one hand.
    “Let me,” he says and I nod in thanks. He doesn’t give me the box, instead he lifts it over my head and sets it on the long conference table next to the door. 
    Our arms brush, brief and only occasionally as we sort through the books, separating them into categories and when we reach for the same book, I jerk my hand back as though the feel of his fingers against mine send an electric current to my skin. We exchange a gaze that lengthens, stretches into a gape and his glance lingers over my face.
    I try to ignore how intense his gaze is, how dark his green eyes become. “I got this. You don’t have to help down here,” I say, trying to pull the book out of his hand, but his grip is firm, unwavering.
    “Sayo asked me to help you.”
    “It’s fine. You can go tell her I don’t need your help.”
    “That right? And if I hadn’t been here just a bit ago, you’d be flat on your arse with a broken back.” When I glare at him and begin to mutter more of what he calls “slaggish tongue” under my breath, Declan drops the book on the table, then pushes the box back to allow him space to sit. He grabs the book I’m holding out of my hand, flips through it idly, and I wonder what rude comments he’ll have for me now. “Do you think we can ever have a conversation that doesn’t begin with me apologizing to you?” he asks.
    I can’t help it. The sound that leaves my mouth is somewhere between an undignified snort and a low gasp. His eyes widen and my cheeks flush hot, but I forget my embarrassment when his laughter echoes through the basement. After a few seconds, he sobers and lets his fingers run through his hair. “I was an arse earlier. About, well, about your mum.” At first, my lips lower, quiver, but when I turn my attention to the books, he touches my arm and squeezes his fingers gently over my skin. “My mum, she’s gone as well.” 
    My eyes pop back to his face and I relax my expression. “I’m sorry,” I say, forgetting the books for a moment. He nods once. “When?”
    Declan lets his hand fall away from my arm.  “Oh, it was some time ago. I was just a kid, but I don’t reckon that knot in your gut ever goes away.” He stands and we return to the books, but his eyes are on my face again and he smiles. “I should have known better than to say something so rude when I don’t really know you.” Declan shakes his head as though another thought comes to him. “Fact, I should apologize properly for the first