Be mine, he’d asked, while handing her that silly candy heart.
Mentally face-palming, cheeks aflame, she made a hasty goodbye to Eric’s parents and withdrew quickly from the room. She hustled through the deep snow to her dad’s waiting truck.
“Brenna! Wait!” Eric’s voice called out from behind her.
She ignored him and threw her bag into the back of her dad’s truck, wrenched the passenger side door open and dove into the seat.
Her dad beamed at her. “Hey pumpk—”
“Drive!” she barked.
Her dad snapped straight. His wrinkled forehead bunched as he frowned, but thankfully he didn’t question her. He shoved the truck into gear, pressed the gas pedal, and drove away.
“Brenna!” Eric’s voice called out again as the truck turned the corner and travelled farther from the cabin.
She slipped down in her seat and crossed her arms. To hell with Eric. She should never had fallen for the lies from his clever tongue.
Her dad slowed the truck after a few bends in the road. They passed her truck still embedded in the snowbank. Her dad’s mouth turned down at the corners. The damage to the truck looked worse in the daylight. Nothing appeared salvageable. Poor Old Blue. When she called Dad, he’d been upset about the vehicle, but infinitely more relieved she was okay, and the “large scrap of metal” protected her. Looking at Old Blue now, she’d been lucky to survive the crash with insignificant injuries.
Without a word, they rolled past the wreckage.
After a couple silent, and tense, kilometers, and more than a few sideway glances from Dad, he finally spoke up. “Pumpkin, are you okay?”
She sighed and dropped her head back on the seat. “Better now. Thanks for picking me up. Sorry about Old Blue.”Sorry about this whole weekend.
What was the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice… Well, Brenna was probably a fool during this entire situation. It didn’t make the cut any less deep, nor the sting less dull.
Maisie whined.
Her dad nodded, thumbs tapping the steering wheel.
“Did something happen at the cabin?”
Her face flamed as images stroked her memory, ones filled with Eric’s naked body pressed to hers, the slow pumping of his hips, the rhythmic movement of their entangled bodies, the heated kisses, Eric’s tongue, Eric’s fingers, Eric’s green gaze, his heart beating hard against her chest…
Goddammit!
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Nothing happened.”
“Does ‘nothing’ have anything to do with Eric Buchanan chasing after us barefoot in the snow hollering your name?”
“Maybe.”
Her dad nodded again. His knowing face crinkled with age and laugh lines. “You know, that young man makes a point to ask about you whenever we run into him. Always figured he carried a little torch for you.”
“Maybe.”
Her dad’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and hard plastic squeaked from the pressure. The truck slowed down as if he prepared to turn around. A low growl rumbled from his chest and his eyes flashed yellow. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, Dad. He didn’t hurt me.” Not physically, anyway. Not in the way her father feared. Emotionally…well, emotionally, she was a mess.
She straightened in her seat. She’d gotten over him once. She could do it again.
“Then what’s…” her dad started.
“The problem?” she interrupted. “He’s engaged.”
Her dad’s mouth dropped open to form a perfect “O” and silence filled the cab of the truck for the rest of the drive.
