Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! How adorable. You’re quite young, aren’t you?”
“I just seem young to someone your age.” I dropped my gaze to her fingers on Trent’s arm, surprised to see a shiny band on her left ring finger.
Meanwhile, she didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that she was married. She tilted her head at me, red-painted lips pursed, and that classic glint of mean-girl danger in her electric green eyes. “Which high school did you just graduate from, honey?”
Heat rushed up my neck, embarrassment mingling with anger. I couldn’t tell which was stronger. Trent’s clean-shaven jaw got harder. He didn’t say anything or rush to defend me, but the look he gave Savannah was a cool, pointed, deadly calm glare, and it told me everything I needed to know.
Whatever history they clearly had, she’d earned that glare and he didn’t want her anywhere near him. Wrapping my fingersaround his bicep, I pulled him closer to me and lifted my chin. “I graduated quite a few years ago, actually. If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got things to do.”
Savannah’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Well, good for you, honey. Enjoy your night.”
She left in a cloud of perfume and condescension, but as I watched her walk away, so did Trent. The weird pinch of jealousy in my chest twisted a little tighter. I knew I had no business feeling it, but I suddenly had the urge to grab his face and turn it tome, because that was where his eyes belonged, on me and only me.
Jeez, possessive much?
“Friend of yours?” I asked lightly, not really wanting him to know that somewhere inside, part of me was struggling to care that this was supposed to be fake.
He huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh but wasn’t quite a scoff either. “Not anymore.”
Great. Not enough information to satisfy my curiosity. Just enough to make me wonder.
Once she’d disappeared, we drifted back into the crowd, his hand returning to mine like it belonged there. Weirdly, it kind of felt like it did. That irrational, possessive witch inside practically purred with satisfaction at feeling his strong fingers between mine.
While his acting remained on par for the rest of the night, he ended up pulling me back to the truck before dessert. The drive back to the ranch was mostly silent. A tense, thick suffocating kind of silence while he stewed, his teeth so clenched that I could practically hear them grind.
It started raining again about halfway to the ranch and I sighed.Perfect. At least the weather matches his mood now. Wonder if it makes him feel any better.
The rain came down in sheets that seemed to intensify with every mile, thunder rolling across the fields like the world was trying to shake itself apart. Trent drove through it like he didn’t even notice, one hand on the wheel, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Cool as a cucumber.
I, on the other hand, was very much not a cucumber. On the dark stretch of road leading up to the ranch, I finally couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“So, Savannah. What happened between you two?”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. Barely but enough that it was visible.
“Nope,” he said.
“Nope what?”
“Nope, we’re not talking about her.”
That was it. He didn’t offer any sort of explanation or detail. All I got was that hard stop and it only made me more suspicious.
“Why not?” I pushed, unable to help myself.
Curiosity was chewing at my gut, but it wasn’t only that. There was something about his reaction that made me want to crawl into his lap and comfort him, and I was hoping that if he could just tell me what had happened, that instinct would go away.
Because I absolutely can’t climb into his lap, can I? No. Well, maybe if—No.
He exhaled sharply, irritation flickering across his profile as lightning flashed, bright light piercing the air for a fraction of the second. “Because there’s nothing to talk about. Drop it.”
Right. Sure. Of course, there’s nothing to talk about. And I’m the Queen of England.
After that, there wasn’t much point in poking him again. Obviously, he wasn’t going to open up about this, so I turnedtoward the window, watching the storm rage outside while the rest of the ride stretched out in awkward silence.
By the time he pulled up in front of the house, the rain had eased into a drizzle, but Trent’s mood hadn’t lifted one bit. He killed the engine, unbuckled, and murmured, “Goodnight, Charlotte.”
I swallowed the offer of comfort, though I was tempted to throw my arms around him, and nodded, stepping out into the damp air after him. Upstairs in my room, I paced for maybe thirty seconds, but it probably wasn’t even that long before I grabbed my phone and called Alex.
