Page 93 of First Chance

We’re supposed to act like an engaged couple, but she can’t even stand to look at me.

And, I can’t stop looking at her.

She’s as beautiful as she always is, dressed like every stitch of fabric and every accessory was made for her. She’s also wearing the red lipstick that nearly brings me to my knees every time she wears it.

“We’ll lay low, there are only a few people I want to speak to about donating, and then we can get out of here.” She speaks as she glances around the crowded tent, still refusing to even face me.

The stuffy suit jacket she bought and forced me to wear is punishment, and I keep shifting my shoulders trying to dislodge it from my neck.

“JoAnna, so good to see you.” A woman that I’ve never seen approaches Jo, and I tune out their conversation, looking for the bar.

“This is Lochlan Dane, my fiancé.” Her hand touches my stomach, resting there as an intimate gesture one might do with someone they’re in a relationship with, but I can’t stop focusing on it.

Every touch is torturous.

Every fake nicety makes me wish it were real.

“You could at least pretend to be engaged in conversation,” she accuses when we’re alone, again.

“I don’t want to talk to these people.”

“I’m aware, but don’t make me look bad just because you can’t stop being a grouch for an hour.” She huffs, stalking towards the bar as elegantly as she can.

I step up behind her as she’s ordering her drink, and I feel her spine stiffen. “If you didn’t want to be engaged to a grouch, then you shouldn’t have put that ring on your finger,” I whisper in her ear.

“And, if you didn’t want to put up with my antics then you should have told me to fuck off,” she hisses under her breath.

Gone is the woman who was ever intimidated by me, and in her place is a woman who can snap my neck with a look.

I hate to admit how much it amuses me.

My cock pulses and I have to step away from her so she doesn’t accidentally brush against me. It’s why I can never think straight around her, all my blood rushes downward anytime she’s near me.

“A photo?” A man with a professional-looking camera asks us, and just as I’m about to say no, Jo agrees.

She slides her arm around my waist and places her hand back on my stomach, forcing me to inhale deeply. I don’t take photos, I don’t know what to do with my arms, but my palm finds her hip bone like a magnet while she smiles prettily.

“Great, now give her a kiss,” he instructs, casually.

She looks at me with sadness in her eyes, already expecting the rejection, and it kills me. I wish I were a man who could kiss her in a crowded room like no one was watching.

My lips find her temple instead, lingering there while the camera shutters in front of us. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” I utter softly.

“Yeah, me too.” She steps away from me. “When the photographer uploads his gallery from tonight, I’ll post those pictures on my Instagram. My family will think it’s odd if I don’t showcase you on social media.

“I don’t know what Instagram is.”

“I know.” She sighs, turning her back to me. She walks away and doesn’t come back until she’s ready to leave.

Not uttering another word to me the rest of the night.

* * *

As the late summer storms begin in the mountains, it’s turned the property into a mud pit. Even when it’s not raining, there is constant cloud coverage, preventing anything on the ground from drying up.

There have been flash flood warnings in effect all week and storms every night, resembling my mood perfectly. I’ve never felt more trapped behind these gates than I do now.

It was my choice to be here, to continue my grandfather’s legacy, but I’m stuck in this place with no outlook, no future. And, it hasn’t been as painful a realization until right now.

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