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“I do, that’s who,” she starts. “What, is Junie girl not good enough for your standards?” She raises her chin. Is she fucking serious right now?

“It’s a piece of shit, Lydia. It’s a miracle this thing didn’t break down on your way here,” I say, walking closer to the truck to get a better look. “I bet the AC and radio don’t even work anymore.” I tap a finger against the window.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she says, marching after me and grabbing my forearm. She makes a pathetic attempt to pull me away from the damn truck. “If you can’t recognize her true beauty, then you don’t deserve to be anywhere near her.”

I glance down at her small hand wrapped partly around my arm, and then back to her.

“Alright, then. No jokes about Junie,” I say, pulling from her grasp. “Are you going to tell me what you summoned me for, then?” I ask, rubbing a hand over the same spot her skin was touching. It’s all prickly now, like I’ve come in contact with a poisonous plant.

“Summoned?” she asks. “That’s a tad dramatic, don’t you think?” She tilts her head, assessing me the way one would a strange specimen. “You’re a Capricorn, aren’t you?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” I ask. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those weirdos who believe in astrology and have crystals as pets.” I huff out a laugh. I don’t tell her that she’s right. I am a Capricorn. Probably a lucky guess, though. She stares up at me in silence, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Oh my god, you totally are.” She laughs, shaking her head back and forth before turning on her heels and taking off toward the storage units without another word.

I follow after her, not bothering to ask a second time what she needed me here for. We walk and walk, and I try not to stare at her ass swaying back and forth. I mean, I can’t help it. It’s right in front of me.

When we’ve almost walked the entire length of the property, she abruptly stops. I slam right into her back, knocking her over in the process. She screams, and I reach out for her on instinct alone. I’m not quick enough, and the forward momentum is already set in motion. I quickly grab her with my good hand, spinning us toward the patch of grass to our left. My back hits the ground as I fall onto it, and she lands right on fucking top of me.

What have I done to deserve this kind of torture?

Lydia lifts her head slowly, her face nearly inches from mine. I watch as her eyes dart back and forth between my own and then down to my mouth. Her breathing quickens, and she parts her lips on a low inhale. My gaze drops to her mouth for a second too long, and I immediately regret it. She begins to lean in to me, seemingly in slow motion. My breathing escalates as the corners of my mind close in, and I feel the sudden urge to escape before it suffocates me.

I flip her over and have her pinned below me in an instant, supporting myself on my forearms. The cast is doing one hell of a job at keeping my hand stabilized, and I don’t feel the pain at all as I cage her head between my arms. I feel something else entirely, and I don’t fucking like it. Her breath hitches, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her wrists are locked in my good hand above her head, and fuck, is she tempting as hell right now. I blame her attitude and my lack of sleep. I grit my teeth against the realization that she’s pinned beneath me and at my mercy—mine for the fucking taking. I won’t lie and say that the prospect isn’t tempting. The thing about temptation, though, is that it never feels wrong until it’s too goddamn late.

I push from the ground and stand, extending a hand toward her. She stares up at me with a curious expression on her face, but doesn’t reach for me. I don’t like the way she’s choosing to study me instead, and I’m growing impatient.

“Come on, love. I haven’t got all day,” I say, extending my hand lower.

She smirks, finally placing her palm into mine. I lift her from the ground, nearly pulling her off her feet. I forget how small she is sometimes, at least in comparison to me. I’m 6’7”, which would make her about … 5’4”. Like I said, small.

“That was fun,” she says, sarcasm etched between her words. Her hands brush down her skirt as she walks over to the unit we stopped in front of. I glance toward it, reading Unit 8C scrawled over the top of it.

“What’s inside?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Dunno,” she answers, pulling a key from somewhere between her tits. Why, why, why? I imagine myself somewhere between them, and then instantly wish that I hadn’t. Sleep deprivation, that’s all this is.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I ask, realizing what she said before I started daydreaming again.

She ignores me, walking forward and placing the key in the lock. She opens the lock and moves to the bottom of the garage-style door to raise it.

“Here, let me,” I say, stepping in front of her to lift the door.

I don’t know why I do it. I’m positive Lydia Aston can manage to lift this door without any assistance. But for some fucked-up reason, I want to help her. She strikes me as the kind of woman who thinks she needs to do it all herself, and some part of me wants her to know that she doesn’t have to. A very, very small part. She eyes me with a hint of defiance in her gaze, but steps back from the door and watches as I raise it.

Once it’s open, I turn toward her. She’s staring past me toward the open unit, tilting her head curiously. I track her stare to a nearly empty storage unit, apart from a small box sitting on the floor in the center of the room. Without a second thought, I advance toward it. If she truly didn’t know what was inside this unit, then I’m suddenly on alert and feeling the need to protect her from it.

“Callum, wait,” she calls out, following me inside.

I walk over to the box and kneel beside it to get a better look. It looks harmless enough, with its worn brass hinges and faded cherry wood. The thing looks small enough to fit in the palm of a hand, at least in the palm of my hand. I glance over at Lydia, who kneels beside me now. She reaches a hand toward it, and I instinctively grab her wrist, stilling it in midair.

“What are you doing?” she seethes.

My eyes snap to hers. I’ve never seen her angry, and I refuse to acknowledge how the violent emotion seems to sharpen her beauty. I shake my head, averting my gaze back to the box.

“What if it’s … dangerous?” I ask, realizing how fucking stupid I sound the second the words leave my lips.