Page 108 of That One Night
He’d wanted to pick her up, but she was done sitting in the passenger seat where that man was concerned. Today was about getting what she wanted and moving on.
Even if that meant moving on without Hendrix. That thought made her heart twinge.
“What’s that?” Trenton asked, a frown in his voice.
“What’s what?”
“That thing on your ankle.” He pointed at her tattoo. It had healed so well she’d almost forgotten it was there. And she certainly wasn’t planning on covering it up for him.
“None of your business,” she told him. “Do you have that form for me?”
“It’s here.” He lifted up a manilla envelope. “But I need you to sign something first.”
“You never mentioned anything about that.” She frowned, sensing a trap. Why did this man never make things easy?
“Yes, well, I’m just covering myself.” He pulled out a form. “It’s a simple NDA. You agree not to tell anybody about our arrangement this summer, and I’ll rescind my lien on your mom’s farm.”
She took the paper he was holding out. “You want me to keep quiet about when and why we actually split up?”
“Of course. Otherwise, what’s stopping you from dragging my name through the dirt as soon as you sell the farm? I have to protect my reputation in this time of social media. Reputation is everything in my business. So sign the paper and you get everything you want.”
“I wouldn’t drag your name through the dirt. I don’t want anything to do with you.” She glared at him. “I just want this to be over.”
“Then sign the NDA, Emery.” He gave her a supercilious smile.
“I’ll sign it after you’ve told your parents about us. Not before.” Because no, she wasn’t giving up her power to this man. Not anymore. She’d come too far to let him browbeat her again.
She’d worked too hard on herself this summer to let that happen. “Now, are we going inside or what?”
Looking furious, Trenton opened his mouth to answer her, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of an engine behind them.
No, not an engine. A bike. The kind of dirt bike that workers use to travel their farms and check on irrigations and errant goats and skinny dippers whose clothes were stolen.
And when she turned, her heart skipped a beat, because it was Hendrix, riding toward them like some kind of messed up knight in no armor, his jaw tight as he came to a stop at the end of Trenton’s parents’ driveway.
He kicked the stand out and climbed off his bike, striding toward her like he meant business.
It was only when he was a couple of yards away that she remembered she was mad at him.
No, furious.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
He stopped, his warm, soft eyes meeting hers. And yes, she felt that ache deep inside of her. The one that wouldn’t disappear, no matter how hard she tried to tell herself he was an asshole and she hated him.
“I’m here to beg you to forgive me.”
“Get out of here,” Trenton shouted at him. “This is private property.”
But Hendrix didn’t move. Didn’t stop looking at her.
She couldn’t stop looking at him, either.
She was confused. He’d made it so clear she wasn’t worth fighting for.
But now he was here. And he looked like he wanted to fight.
“Excuse me, did you hear me?” Trenton strode forward, his eyes flashing as he glared at Hendrix. “You need to leave. Before I call the cops.”
