“Yes.”
“Okay.” He lifts the brim of his hat and walks off.
I turn back, ready to keep my head high, jealousy that I didnotfeel completely in check, and walk right past the lying said-he-wasn’t-going-to-be-here liar. Yes, I know I said lying twice. It bore mentioning a second time.
However, when I turn, he’s gone.
He and the little flirt who was touching him.
Ugh, get it together, Lark. You don’t care about other women when it comes to your nemesis.
No, I’m just having to remind myself of that because I’m a dumbass.
Whatever. This is perfect. I don’t even have to face him.
I start to walk, and suddenly there’s someone grabbing my arm, pulling me into a horse stall.
I scream, but a hand covers my mouth, trapping the sound.
Oh, God. I’m going to die.
Now I’m going to have to fight someone twice my size or…be raped or beaten or kidnapped.
My heart is pounding, against a very large, broad chest behind me. The man’s other arm wraps around my stomach, pulling me to him.
I close my eyes, hating that this is the end of my life. I’m going to die in a horse stall. How pathetic.
My mind races about all the things I didn’t do. Like punching Hope just once. It would’ve been fun. Or get married. Have babies. Make sure that my Olympia will go to Suzanne, because everyone else is stupid and undeserving.
I’ve never been to Italy. I’ve always wanted to go there.
I’ve never even been to the coast, seen the waves hitting the shoreline.
So many regrets.
So many dreams vanishing.
“Miss me, Lark?” the deep voice says against my neck.
My eyes pop open as the truth hits me.
It’s Tristan.
“I bet you did. I saw you staring.”
Oh, this asshole. Now I know I’m not going to die, but he is.
I raise my hand to his wrist, pulling it down. He lowers it and I turn. “You stupid prick!”
He blinks, head rearing back. “Hello to you too.”
“I thought I was going to die! You don’t grab a girl and pull her into the horse stalls.”
If looks could kill, he’d be dead. And I wouldn’t be sad about that. Not one bit.
He grins.
He might die anyway.
