Page 11 of Crazy Thing

But now it’s just me and him. I have nowhere to hide.

And I’m totally unprepared.

Darius grumpily shoves a hand through the tousled golden streaks in his shiny chestnut hair, scowling as he twists and turns between displays. I’m exceedingly annoyed with the part of myself that can’t help but notice how unbelievably gorgeous he is.

Sheesh. Darius sure did grow up nicely. Holy hell—he looks so freakingbigsqueezing through the narrow aisles of my tiny store.

He was practically my height back when we knew each other eons ago. Now he’s easily over six feet tall, and his crisp white button-down shirt and slacks aren’t doing a whole lot to hide those muscles.

Just the sight of him makes my heart do a chaotic little dance inside my chest.

Darius doesn’t exist, Ziggy.

But it’s a little hard to convince myself that he doesn’t exist when his confident, masculine movements are quickly eating up the distance between us.

If I had more time, I’d allow myself to enjoy the view. But Darius is already here, towering over my counter, his honey-colored eyes piercing mine.

He stares.

I stare back.

Then, “What’s this?” he blurts with a frown, pointing at a set of bowls on a tiny shelf nearby.

I blink at him. “Oh, uh. It’s a charging bowl.”

His scowl grows.

So I add, “You use the bowl to charge and cleanse other crystals.”

His gaze lingers on the bowl. “Right.” But he doesn’t beat around the bushes for long. “So, I’m going to get straight to it. We need to team up to save the waterfall.”

My eyebrows pop upward. I can practically feel them hit my hairline.“Me and you?” I point back and forth between the two of us.

“Yes,” is his firm response.

I chuckle in disbelief. “I’m gonna have to decline.”

“If you don’t help me, Edison wins,” he grinds out.

At the mention of that man’s name, disgust surges in my veins. “How are you any different from Edison? You’re bothgreedy, rich men.” The ugly truth is, I know I can’t trust either one of them.

Darius seems to ignore my insult, casually sidestepping it like a pile of dog shit on the sidewalk. “I want to save the waterfall for the benefit of the townspeople.”

“Since when are you Mother Theresa?” I spit out sarcastically.

A man doesn’t climb to billionaire status without stepping on a few toes. And Darius istotallythe type of man who’d break a promise to get ahead in life. He has never had a problem stepping all over other people to get what he wants.

I couldneverbe like that.

Darius steps closer and I get a whiff of…money. Leather and musk and cedarwood and money. That’s what his cologne smells like. It’s distracting.

His eyes heat and passion bleeds from his voice when he speaks. “The waterfall means something to me, Ziggy. I can’t tell you how many of my core memories are tied to that place. It matters to me. And I protect the things that matter to me.”

As he speaks, a lock of silky hair tumbles effortlessly over his crinkled forehead. I whimper involuntarily.

I should probably move, put some distance between us. But the power of his honey brown stare has got my feet nailed to the floor.

And hearing the conviction in his voice makes my heart clench. I know that the waterfall is located on property that is very close to the small ranch where he grew up with his siblings. I can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—there might be a caring, nostalgic bone in his muscle-bound body.

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