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Technically, my father could be anybody. I mean, for fuck’s sake, the woman was working as a hooker for six weeks before my father—well, my fake father—swept her off her feet. But after I read the files and thought about the timeline of things, something tells me…I likely share the same father as Brody. Which would make us full siblings.
By now, I could have gotten his number from so many people. Heck, I could have borrowed Ryann’s car and gone to find him. But from what I’ve heard about Brody, it took him a long time to find his happily ever after. The last thing I want to do is drop a bomb on him. I mean, it hurt me that my parents cut me off for being a loser. But she left him when he was a toddler. With a monster nonetheless. Even imagining the type of pain he must have felt kills me.
Heading to my seat, I wait for what will be either the most painful or most awkward dance of my entire existence.
We aren’t moving like we usually do. I’m cold and closed off. And he’s acting nervous, shying away from digging deep and going to the place we need to make this performance our own.
His hand grazes my hip, and I swear my skin must smoke from catching on fire. Chills run up my spine, making my head spin.
The music stops mid-song, and Jolene steps in front of us.
“Take five minutes. Go talk. Or fight. Or whatever the heck you need to do to pretend like you like each other.” She shakes her head. “You two arenotthe pair I watched a few weeks ago. So, go away and rehearse again, and when you come back, you’d better be that couple from before.”
I groan silently, just wanting to get this whole debacle over with. I know we suck right now. But I don’t think either of us can help it.
Walking behind the curtain, I feel him behind me. I’m almost to my water bottle when his strong hand turns me around so that my body is facing him.
“Kiss me, Little Bird,” he mutters, tilting my chin up with his fingers.
Shoving his chest, I snarl, “No! I’m not kissing you!”
Anchoring me, he brings my lips to his, and that’s when I slap him—hard.
“Get away from me,” I growl.
“No,” he mutters. “That’s not what you want.”
This time, when he brings my lips closer to his, I don’t slap him. I just continue sucking in air, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“Kiss me, Sutton. It doesn’t have to mean anything to you, but when we’re dancing on that stage, I want you to remember this kiss.”
“Is this a game to you, Hunter?” I glare at him. “Bouncing between Paige and me? Making it seem like you’re over her, and then the second you and I end whatever the hell we had going on, you run to her? Are you that incapable of being alone?” I feel my face heat with anger, and I will myself not to slap him again. “Well, I’m not playing your game anymore. I’m a grown-ass woman.” I laugh bitterly. “I mean, lately, as childish as this bullshit between us has been, it hasn’t seemed like it. But I am. And the last damn thing I’m going to do is kiss you, asshole.”
“What the hell are you talking about? And why did you say that to me outside of Peaches?” He scowls. “Run back to Paige? I don’t want Paige.”
“From the picture I saw of you guys at the arena…y’all looked mighty cozy,” I snarl. “It’s okay, Hunter. But please, fuck off now.”
When I start to pull away, he stops me. “I haven’t run back to her. I never will either.” Something flashes in his eyes, and he sighs. “She showed up at the arena the other day, and I told her I didn’t want her. I told her the truth.”
“Which is what, Hunter? Do you even know anymore?”
“That I want you,” he snaps back, glaring down at me, his body touching mine because he’s so close. “That anything she and Ieverhad is done. And that I will get you back, Sutton.”
“Get me back? You never had me,” I say through gritted teeth. Smoke is all but coming out of my ears, but I swear I could also cry.
“Maybe that’s fucking true, Little Bird,” he growls against my lips. “But you had me. Youstillhave me.”
And then, gripping my nape softly, he kisses me harshly. And even though a huge part of me wants to, I don’t push him away. Because honestly…I can’t. I’m frozen. A victim of Hunter Thompson’s charm.
Once his lips leave mine, slowly, I step back. “Let’s go get this rehearsal done. We should talk about this another time. A time when everything has settled down.” I shake my head. “Showing up at my work, this, right now”—I wave my hand between us—“everything you do is too much.”
“I just want to keep you safe.”
“That isn’t your job.”
“I wish it were,” he says instantly. “So fucking badly.”
As I look at him, my brain tries to think of what to say back. And just when I open my mouth to try, Jolene tells us it’s our turn to rehearse again.
