“Were you?” His lips twitch around the question, the tease evident in his voice.
“That’s not the point,” I snap, hating how flustered I sound.
“Relax, darling.” He leans casually against the table, his posture all lazy confidence. “I came to apologize.”
I falter, caught off guard. “For what?”
“For earlier,” he says, his voice softening slightly. “The car. The crowd. And for being an asshole.”
“Oh,” I mutter, unsure what to do with this version of him. “That’s nice of you.”
“Don’t get used to it.” He winks, holding up the champagne. “But I figured since we didn’t finish last time, we could try again. A proper do-over.”
My chest tightens, and I hate the way my defenses start to wobble. “This isn’t Italy,” I say, even though my voice lacks the bite I want it to have. “And you and I can’t . . . this isn’t right. Your family . . .”
“Why not?” He steps closer, his voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flip. “We’re not Romeo and Juliet. This isn’t some tragic love story.”
“For starters, you want what’s mine,” I snap, glaring up at him.
“Oh, I already told you that.” He grins. “But we can sit and discuss exactly how I want it.”
The words hit a little too close to home, and I square my shoulders, refusing to let him see the cracks in my armor. “Why are you really here?”
“I wanted to see you,” he says simply.
My stomach flips, and I hate how easily he gets under my skin. “Why?” I insist, wondering if I should call the sheriff. Does 9-1-1 work here? Of course it does, Galeana. What are you thinking? It’s Ledger’s fault, he flusters me with his presence and my brain stops working properly.
He shrugs, annoyingly calm. “Because ever since Italy, I’ve been wondering what it would’ve been like if you’d stayed.”
I blink, his words hitting harder than they should. Stayed? What does that even mean? It doesn’t matter. It would’ve been wrong. So fucking wrong. Doesn’t he see that? Maybe this is why my mother ran away because her father . . . what if her father was trying to marry her to a cousin? I should pack and forget about this town.
“Maple Haven isn’t worth this,” I mutter under my breath, but I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.
He smiles, that slow, crooked smile that’s been haunting my thoughts since I met him. It’s the kind of smile that promises trouble wrapped in charm, and damn it, my stomach betrays me with a flutter.
“Relax, darling. I’m not here to propose or do anything dramatic. Just a drink. A fresh start. No games, no dares. Just us.”
My throat tightens, my pulse thrumming in my ears. “You need to leave.”
He doesn’t move, not an inch. Instead, he picks up a strawberry from the basket, biting into it with an almost sinful slowness, his gaze locked on mine like he’s daring me to look away. “But darling, think about what we could do together. What we could be.” His voice dips lower, smoother, each word a tantalizing promise.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Leave,” I insist, sharper this time, trying to ignore the way his presence seems to fill the room, making it harder to breathe.
“You can’t just disregard me like that,” he says, stepping closer, his tone soft but laced with playful defiance. “This is destiny in the making, and you know it.”
Destiny? My ass. “Absolutely not,” I snap. “Get out.”
He flashes that infuriating grin again, leaning in just enough that I catch the faintest scent of his cologne—clean, woodsy, and annoyingly perfect. “Don’t say I didn’t try to play nice, darling.” His voice turns flirty, the words rolling off his tongue like a caress. “I’d hate to resort to more . . . persuasive methods.”
My breath hitches, and I glare up at him, summoning every ounce of strength I have to hold my ground. “You’re impossible.”
“I want to think I’m very possible,” he murmurs, his smile widening.
I grab my phone from the back of my jeans and say, “I’m calling the police.”
He shrugs. “Please do and just make sure to tell the good sheriff I was here.” He winks and leaves.
ChapterEleven
