Page 41 of The Executioners Three
Freddie reached the mill’s sign. But rather than veer toward the entrance ofLe Moulin à Eau,she circled around to the back. To where the paddles would spin when the sluice gate was lifted.
It was calm here, the little tributary a mere trickle and the wind more like a gentle breeze. Partially stripped trees towered before her, their fallen leaves now a carpet of amber and gold, while the remaining leaves made a fluttering array of jazz hands Mr. Binder would appreciate.
Freddie’s heart thundered in her ears. Her lungs couldn’t seem to fill up, no matter how deeply she inhaled.
What the hell had just happened? What had Theo Porter done to her? Surely this wasn’t a normal reaction to kissing. Surely having one’s fingers grip white-knuckled to one’s pants legs wasn’tnormal.
Theo Porter was the enemy. Period. She had kissed him to prove a point. Now the point had been made, and she could stop thinking about him. After all, their gangs weresworn enemiesof Verona Beach.
She heard footsteps crunch on gravel. She didn’t have to turn to guess who was coming.
“Freddie,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t know why he was apologizing. He hadn’t done anything wrong.Shehad been the one to kiss him.
“It wasn’t right for them to egg you on… egguson. I should have stopped them.”
Slowly, Freddie twisted to face him. Except this was a mistake because her common sense shut down at the sight of him. He was talking to her. His lips were moving, and there were words coming out, but he might as well have been speaking in Klingon for all she understood.
And in that moment, she realized that this was why she had avoided meeting Theo’s eyes on stage: it had been simple self-preservation. As if her body had known that if she looked at him directly, Very Bad Choices would ensue.
Theo Porter was absolutely, undeniably gorgeous.
With his hair all wild—and made wild by her fingers. With his face flushed from cold and kissing, with his lips red and his jacket askew, with his slightly panicked expression and restless, weight-shifting energy…
In two long steps, Freddie reached Theo. He shut up, his breath catching in a way that made Freddie’s gut tighten. Then, in a voice she was certain could not belong toher—it was so composed, so matter-of-fact!—she said, “I would very much like to kiss you again. Do you think that would be okay?”
“God, yes,” he replied.
And that was all it took. Then his mouth was back on hers, and the sparklers were going off again.
This time, though, Freddie was the one who made the sound. A soft moan that just slid out from her chest and that she couldn’t seem to stop. But Theo must have liked it because he made one to match it, and now he was digging his fingers into her back and pulling her more tightly to him.
It wasn’t tightly enough, though, so she gripped him too. And the next thing she knew, she was walking backward. She couldn’t tell if he was pushing her or if she was pulling him or if maybe it was a mixture of both.
Her back hit the mill. His mouth left her lips. Cold air washed in, and for half a second, she thought he must have come to his senses. He was going to leave now, and this moment between them—whatever it was—would end.
But then his lips moved to her neck, and she realized in a hot, skittering flash of thought that he wasnotleaving. And also, she realized she hadnot, in fact, reached self-actualization on Friday morning.
Now, however, she could most definitely say she had.
Her whole body was covered in chill bumps. She gripped Theo’s head again—god, his hair was so soft—and tugged his face back to hers. His lips were swollen. His pupils completely dilated.
But before their mouths could resume what they’d begun, a shout sliced through the air:“Porter? You over here, man? I got it!”
Freddie gulped in a breath, trying to process what those words might mean. They had come from the other side of the mill, near the stream.
“Porter?”he called again.“Come on, man. I’ve got the key.”
“It would seem,” Freddie said, her voice shockingly rough, “that someone needs you.”
Theo nodded. He wasn’t looking toward the Village, though. Just at Freddie. From her lips to her eyes. Then back to her lips.
It made her want to kiss him all over again.
“You’re here for a prank,” she forced out. A reminder to herself that they were enemies. Alike in dignity perhaps, butenemiesall the same. She hated him, and ten minutes ago (or maybe it had been longer—really, where had the sun gone?) she had wanted to murder him.
Again, Theo nodded. “We aren’t pranking the pageant.” His voice was even rougher than hers. “We just needed… something of Mr. Binder’s.”
