Page 12 of Dreams and Desires

His face twitches hard—panic or shame, who knows—and then he makes this awful little grunt. Not a word. Just sound.

The woman jumps like someone pulled a string. She’s up in a second, face flushed, grabbing her purse off the floor. She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t say anything. Just bolts past, heels clapping against the tile like a timer going off.

What a sleazebag this man is.

“Thought you had a wife,” I say.

He adjusts his tie, trying to play it cool. “Mr. Patterson. I didn’t expect—”

“No kidding.”

I sit, open my laptop. “Let’s talk land contracts.”

He hesitates. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s not,” I say, flat. “I paid you to handle it. You told me this wouldn’t be a problem.”

He leans back and then forces a smile across his face. It’s damn fake. “Locals are making noise. Trout habitats, environmental reviews…”

“Then fix it.”

“I’ll try.”

“No. You will.”

He swallows. “You’ll have your signatures.”

“Good.”

I shut the laptop and leave without another word.

We’re back on the road. Sun’s starting to drop. I glance at the mountains through the window. Light’s changing. Slipping lower, turning everything gold. It’s the kind of view people pay a fortune for.

Good. Let them.

For about two minutes, it’s peaceful. Then my driver slams the brakes—hard.

The car jerks to a stop just inches from the crosswalk. I lurch forward, hand catching the seat in front of me. Outside the windshield, I spot two people. A man’s on the ground. The woman beside him is helping him up, one arm around his back, the other gripping his elbow.

A few people nearby start moving toward them. Just enough for a small crowd to form—eyes already on the car. On me.

Great. I won’t be able to cross without dealing with this.

I sigh under my breath. “Pedestrians,” I mutter, pushing the door open.

It was my driver’s fault. I know that. But still, I find myself walking out like I have something to defend. Maybe it’s instinct. Step out first, take control of the moment before someone else twists it.

“You guys came out of nowhere!” I shout, stepping closer.

The guy’s staring at me, holding his elbow. His face seems twisted in pain. Like he’s trying not to show how bad it hurts. Then I see it—blood. Just a thin line down his forearm, but it’s there. The woman sees it too. And that’s when she snaps. She looks at his arm, then looks at me. Like she connects both things instantly.

Next thing I know, she’s coming straight at me.

“You asshole!” she yells, closing the space between us before I even register what’s happening. “My brother is bleeding because of you!”

And suddenly, her hand hits me across the face. Hard. It lands open-palmed, right across the cheek, and I hear it more than I feel it. The sound echoes. I don’t even move right away—just blink, stunned. Not from pain. From disbelief.

She slapped me.

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