Page 69 of Holding On To Good

She stiffened by slow degrees as Miranda reached the patio.

Spotting them, Miranda came to a sudden stop, indecision, confusion crossing her face her gaze shifting between him and Willow. Her hair was smoothed back into a low ponytail, her gray eyes nervous and searching, a white purse clutched in her hands.

“Hello, Urban,” she said, then she flicked Willow a dismissive look. “Willow. How brave you are, wearing that haircut with your bone structure.”

Willow’s left eye twitched. “Miranda,” she said in the same flat tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m visiting my mother for a few weeks.”

“No,” Willow ground out. “Why are you here, at Urban’s house?”

“I thought it’d be nice to catch up with an old friend,” she said, shooting a shiny, toothy smile his way. “Since we didn’t have much time to talk last night.”

Willow slowly turned toward him. “Last night?”

“I ran into her,” he said, feeling as if he was making an admission of guilt even if he had no idea what he was supposed to feel guilty for, “when I was picking up our dinner.”

“I see,” she said softly. She stepped away from him again. “Well, aren’t you lucky that I was just leaving? Now you two have the rest of the night to catch up.”

She twitched her fingers in air quotes as if catch up was synonymous with screw each other stupid.

Jesus. H. Christ.

“That is lucky,” Miranda chirped, beaming and triumphant. She gave Willow a finger wave. “Goodbye.”

Willow glared, eyes narrowed to slits, lips peeled back in a small, mean grin. “Bite me, Miranda.”

She lifted her chin, turned on her heel and walked away, dignified as royalty.

Pissed as fuck.

“Excuse me,” he murmured to Miranda, then took after Willow in a slow jog, catching up to her at the end of the driveway.

She was fast when she put her mind to it.

“Don’t go,” he said, brushing his fingertips against the back of her wrist.

She jerked her hand away.

“Willow.” She picked up her pace. He hurried to pass her, then planted himself in her way, forcing her to stop. “Stay.”

He saw her hesitation. Her indecision.

Taking a chance, he edged closer. Tried taking her hand again, grateful and encouraged when she let him. “Please.”

She swallowed. Inhaled deeply, her fingers curling around his, and opened her mouth—

“Is this a bad time?” Miranda called from the edge of the patio.

They both stiffened and cursed under their breaths, his a quiet fuck me and Willow’s a soft shit. Both sent Miranda narrow glances.

But Willow was the one who pulled away.

The one who walked away.

Leaving him wanting nothing more than to call her back.

He watched Willow storm off on those long, bare legs. Couldn’t tear his eyes from her as she got into her car and slammed the door shut then took off down the road like Satan himself was riding her ass.

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