Page 15 of Playing for Keeps
She turned into a squirrel. That’s what. Not just any squirrel—the young red squirrel from the oldSword in the Stonemovie. The scene where the lovestruck squirrel finds out that she’s fallen for a human boy, not another squirrel, is the saddest cinematic moment in history.
Squirrels mate for life, and that poor squirrel wasted hers on someone she could never be with.
Same, girl. Same.
And Caroline’s ridiculous loyal heart still longed for him, even after all this time.
Justin’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he whispered, “Will you please act like we’re together for just a few seconds?”
Ah sprinkles. Why did he have to hit her where it hurt? Why did he have to pull out those good memories and turn them to ash?
“Please,” he added in a voice that was deeper, yet incredibly familiar in the best and worst ways.
A second later, the bell above the door chimed happily as if she wasn’t currently slogging through an existential crisis. Four young women barged in wearing matching wild eyes and smiles. One had a little boy propped on her hip.
“Justin McKinnon!” a woman shouted in a high-pitched whine.
Justin pinned Caroline with a serious gaze. “Please.”
One of the ropes holding her fractured heart together snapped. He wasn’t putting her through this for no reason. He really needed help the way she had the day they met.
Why couldn’t she just tell him to have a nice life? Why couldn’t she push him away and protect her wounded pride?
Why did he have to come back and make things worse?
Caroline nodded. She might not understand why it was impossible to say no to anyone who needed help, but nothing inside her could let the group of wild females eat him alive when he’d saved her from the same threat once.
One second she was a normal woman standing on her own two feet. The next, Justin’s tree trunk of an arm wrapped around her and pulled her flush against him and the hard vest he wore.
For the love of cotton candy, why did the blissful embrace she’d dreamed about hundreds of times have to hurt so much? Memories of Justin holding her rolled over her. There had been a time in both of their lives when this exact spot had been their favorite place in the world.
Now, his touch was scalding, branding her with a note of danger that couldn’t be ignored. It was salt on an old wound he’d just ripped open again.
A scoff tore Caroline out of her spiral, and she turned toward the women who’d just chased Justin into The Cakery. The faces that were no doubt gorgeous each pulled in unnatural ways, distorted by sneers and frowns at the sight of Justin holding Caroline against him.
“I’m sorry. We’re closed.”
Wow. She’d managed to get the words out in a steadiness she didn’t feel.
One of the women—a tall red-haired beauty—rolled her eyes and turned quickly, stomping away from the open door. Another blonde woman actually dropped her jaw open in shock as if she was used to getting her way and this dismissal was unacceptable.
Another with slightly darker hair grabbed the blonde’s arm and mumbled, “Come on. What a buzz kill.”
Slowly, the women turned and exited the bakery, letting the bell chime above the door as they went, leaving Caroline suspended weightless in Justin’s arms.
When they were alone in the store, she turned her attention to him to find him already looking at her, capturing her in his entrancing gaze. He swallowed so hard she heard the gulp.
“Thank you for that,” he whispered.
Uh-oh. Her stomach was flipping like a kid on a tilt-a-whirl. She couldn’t afford to get caught in hischarm. Not again.
The Justin McKinnon she’d known and loved had belonged to her and only her. Now, she was another one of the many women who had floated in and out of his life. He’d spent their years apart running from crazed women, and she couldn’t get out of a good relationship fast enough.
Pressing her palms against his vest, she pushed him back. “I hate this reenactment.” She spoke with clenched teeth. “I hate it more than I hate dark chocolate.”
The look of wonder on his face fell into something almost like hurt.
He had the nerve to pretend to be wounded after all he’d put her through. No. If anything, she was the one who had taken the blows. He’d been the one to dole them out.
