Sure you weren't.Small-town gossip traveled fast—I'd heard plenty about his reputation. The ladies' man who charmed tourists at the resort bar, never the same woman twice.
"Gil Pruitt," he continued, still holding my hand. "I'm relatively new to Lovesbury—been here about six months now.I run the Pinnacle resort up the mountain. Perhaps you've seen it?"
Oh, I'd seen it. Every single day from my food truck window.
"I have a private cabin on the property," he said. "I was thinking we could spend the weekend there—show you what we've done with the place, let you enjoy some of the amenities. Good reviews are always appreciated."
The way he said it—casual, confident, like he was offering me a tour of his kingdom—made my teeth clench. But I forced a smile, hoping it read as sweet and not like the evil queen plotting his downfall.
"That sounds wonderful. Thank you."
"I was hoping it would be you, Ruby." His voice dropped lower, rough and deliberate.
My pulse jumped. He'd heard Evelyn announce my name, but hearing him say it like that—intimate, possessive—made my skin flush.
I rose on the balls of my feet—old gymnastics instinct, making myself taller—and forced myself to meet his gaze. "Hope you're worth eight forty-seven."
His smile widened, and something heated flickered in his eyes. "I'll do my best to earn every penny."
His words carried both promise and threat, sending heat pooling low in my belly despite everything. Despite who he was, what he'd done, what I planned to do to him.
No. Absolutely not. I was not going to be attracted to this man. This was revenge. This was justice. This was—
"Shall we?" His hand settled on my lower back, warm through my coat.
I stepped away from his touch, ignoring the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I'll need to stop by my apartment first. Get some things for the weekend."
"Of course." He gestured toward the pavilion exit. "Where are you parked?"
"I walked. I live in the village."
"Then let me drive you." He moved toward the exit, clearly expecting me to follow. The confidence, the assumption—it set my teeth on edge even as part of me recognized it was exactly the kind of arrogance I'd expected from him.
We wove through the dispersing crowd, voices calling out congratulations and making jokes I barely heard. Someone mentioned getting their money's worth.
This was happening. This was really happening.
I was completely broke. If I couldn't pull off this revenge, I had nothing left.
Gil's vehicle was parked at the edge of the square—a gunmetal gray Range Rover, sleek and imposing. He opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed in, hyper-aware of how small I felt next to him. The cab smelled like cedar, leather, and smoke—expensive and masculine. The leather seats were soft and warm, already heated. Nothing like the worn vinyl seats in my food truck's cab.
He slid into the driver's seat, and the space seemed to shrink. The quiet confidence in the way he moved, the way he settled in, commanding the space as if the entire world outside bent to his will.
"Which way?" he asked, starting the engine. It purred to life, smooth and quiet.
"Take a left out of the square, then straight for three blocks."
We pulled out onto the road in silence. I caught my reflection in the side mirror. My face was pale, my eyes too bright. My lips pressed into a thin line despite my attempt to appear casual.
I looked ready to make a terrible mistake.
But it was too late to back out now. I'd just bid everything to buy one weekend with the man I hated most in the world.
"So," Gil said, breaking the silence. "I've seen you around. The food truck near The Pinnacle."
My pulse kicked. Had he known who I was this whole time? Was this whole thing—
"I've been meaning to stop by for coffee, but..." He glanced at me, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "You always looked like you wanted to throw it at me instead of sell it to me."
