“Okay.” I pause for a beat before whispering, “Thank you, Remy.”
He tilts his head as he studies me. “For what?”
I shrug. “For being you. For being a good man. For reminding me that there are good people out there.”
His icy blue eyes soften as he crushes me against his chest. “Anytime,alouette,” he mumbles into my hair before pulling back and reluctantly stepping away. “And call or text me anytime you wanna hang out, talk, or even just vent about life.”
My mouth tugs up in a half smile. “I can do that.”
Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, Remy reluctantly releases me and walks back over to his own bike. Pulling on his helmet, he straddles his 600 and turns it on. Looking over his shoulder once more, he gives me a wave before pulling out of the parking lot.
I stare after him for a while after he disappears from sight, lost in my thoughts about him and the other guys.
I thought moving to Willow Bend would be the biggest change to my life after Wren died, but the guys crashing into my life has changed everything.
While I know I need to be cautious around them and guard my heart, I feel like I grow as a person every time I hang out with them. I get out of my shell, try new things, and start to trust people again—all of which Wren would’ve wanted.
Maybe letting them in wouldn’t be so bad.
Sighing at myself, because I’m not going to figure out my life standing in the parking lot, I grab my helmet and turn to make my way inside. I can’t wipe the silly smile off my face the entire walk through the lot, up the stairs, and to the door of my apartment.
Unlocking my door, I push it open. I freeze when a familiar scent I hoped I’d never smell again hits my nose. The overpowering smell of burnt coffee and fresh dirt overwhelms me as I cautiously glance around my apartment.
I’m surprised to see Andrew standing in my living room, grinning at me. I’d be annoyed at how fucking proud of himself he looks if I weren’t frozen in fear.
Andrew looks the same as he did seven months ago. He’s around six feet tall, has broad shoulders, and most would consider him handsome. He nails the all-American look with his wavy blond hair trimmed short, blue eyes, and tanned skin.
It’s only when you really look for it that you notice the cruelty in his washed-out blue eyes or the smirk perpetually on his lips.
“Andrew,” I croak, hating that my voice is coming out so small and unsure. “What are you doing here?”
I still can’t believe this is happening. Part of me hopes I’ll blink and he will disappear, but I know it’s not going to be that easy to get rid of him.
“What am I doing here? Oh, birdie, I thought you were smarter than that. I’m here to drag you back home, kicking and screaming if I have to.” His face twists into a mask of anger. “Although, after that last night, I thought you would’ve understood the virtues to remaining pure. Not tongue-fucking white-trash biker scum like you were earlier.”
Memories of the night Andrew discovered I wasn’t as “pure” as my parents led him to believe try to creep up. I forcefully pushthem down because I need to deal with the threat right in front of me rather than get sucked into the past.
If it were any other situation, I’d laugh at Andrew calling Remy white trash. I can guarantee the guys are many times richer than the Fowlers, despite them not flaunting their wealth at every opportunity.
Rather than telling him in no uncertain terms that there’s no way in hell I’m going back with him, I try to stall for time to think up a way out of this. “How did you find me?”
He rolls his eyes at me, as if he can’t believe how stupid I am. “You led me straight to you, birdie. I had no idea if the numbers were you or not. Once I knew, well, I had to come here as soon as I could.”
I grit my teeth as I mentally berate myself for being so stupid. Telling him to fuck off felt good in the moment, but it was the wrong call and so not worth it.
“What is it you want from me?”
That’s one thing I could never figure out.
Despite their abhorrent personalities, the Fowler brothers have no shortage of women throwing themselves at them. I never understood why Andrew has been so persistent in pursuing me after I broke off our engagement, when he could very easily find himself another bride.
“I want what I was promised,” he roars. I flinch back at the sudden noise and the rage twisting his face. He smooths down his navy tie as he gets himself back under control. “I made an arrangement with your parents, and I expect that to be fulfilled. So, you’ll be coming back home with me.”
Yeah, that’s not happening. I’d rather die than go back to Oakridge Park with him. And, recently, I’ve started to have more to live for, so fuck that.
It’s my turn to level him with a condescending look that wordlessly questions his intelligence. “How do you seethis working out, Andrew? Dragging back an unwilling and nonconsenting bride is going to do what for you, exactly?”
“Your consent and willingness are unimportant to me,” he tells me so matter-of-factly that it chills me to the bone. “All I need you to do is produce an heir, which I can achieve without your consent.”
