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CHAPTER 15
Summer
Don’t do it. The text glared up at me. You’ll regret it.
I wasn’t certain to whom the unknown number belonged, but I had a suspicion. I typed out my response. Don’t tell me what to do.
The response was immediate. Your father wouldn’t have wanted it.
Red hot anger washed over me. It had to be Rook—the only person opposed to my application. Who was he to tell me what my father would or wouldn’t have wanted? My fingers flew over the glass. Yeah, my father would have wanted me to starve on the streets.
A pause. Then, come work for me.
I traced the edge of my phone, wavering. I’d been unable to sleep last night, old nightmares from when I was a kid resurfacing. Flickering orange sparks against a star filled night, a tightness in my chest, unable to breathe.
It had woken me. My sheets and nightgown, drenched in sweat. My heart, pounding.
The rest of the night, restless, the screams of the past echoing through my mind.
Callie and I had stayed up late talking, reminiscing past stories when we both lived here.
At the last minute, she’d managed to find an anonymous sponsor to pay for her art apprenticeship and was excited to tell me that Beckley, her current crush, was also going. Apparently, she’d broken up with John.
It had been a good distraction from her grief; she would be leaving tomorrow.
When I’d told her what had happened at the Magnolia, she was as mortified as me.
If I’d had any kind of power, or even a few bucks to rub together, I'd have punched Rook in the face.
Instead, I’d had to beg for money, in a room full of people. And not just people, but fancy-pants people. People fat with cash.
With their tailored suits, elegant food, and superior looks.
How they talked about me like I wasn't even in the room.
I wasn't good enough for a loan, but maybe their charity.
And Rook, my god, my face flamed, even now. The way he’d spoken about me, with clear disdain, had made it a thousand times worse.
It had been three days, but I still felt as embarrassed as if it had only just happened.
I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m smart enough, I responded snarkily.
Smart enough to make my coffee, I’m sure.
Actually, I’m terrible at making coffee, I lied.
I’m sure we could find other things for you to do…
I stared at the phone, my heart knocking against my ribs like a caged and frantic bunny. Was he saying what I thought he was say?—
No. I clamped down my thoughts, even though heat scorched my insides like lava. It was just my imagination. My wildly, creative imagination.
He’d been sinfully gorgeous in that room, temptation luring me to him the minute I saw him. With a sexy, intelligent face made for brooding, and sensual lips that pursed in disapproval. Day old stubble and a chiseled jaw that clenched every time he looked at me. He’d stared at me with a dark, heated gaze that could melt butter—it had certainly melted my insides. It felt like he wanted to simultaneously crush me and kiss me.
I’d had a hard time keeping my eyes off him, even after he’d shamed me so publicly.
Well??, he texted. Wolf got your tongue, little bunny?
