Page 40 of The Front Runner
“I swear.”
She shoots me a disbelieving look. “I have never once heard you swear.”
I stand up as she approaches and drops her toolkit on the concrete alleyway with a loud clang. Loki startles on the other side of the stall door.
“I do when the situation warrants it.”
“Well, I’ll wait with bated fucking breath for when that situation arises.”
I chuckle. I like her all snappy and worked up. I like to think she’s worked upover me.
She’s about to go into the stall when she spins on me. “Tell me the truth. Are you connected to the mafia? People say that you are, and you haven’t outright denied it. One day, are you going to be calling me to stitch up some guy in a back room here?”
I laugh. Small town gossip is vicious. And wrong.
“I’m not. I don’t know why that started circulating. Probably because I waltzed into a small town with a question mark for my past, a chip on my shoulder, and more money than I really knew what to do with.”
“Where is all your money from? Most people your age don’t just mope around their multi-million dollar barns all day waiting for their vet to show up so they can accost her with sexually suggestive one-liners.”
Oof. She’s fired up. But while we’re having a no-holds-barred conversation, I might as well give her the truth.
“I took my father’s multi-billion-dollar shipping company and ripped it up. I sold it for parts. He spent his life building it and beating my mother. He took what I loved most, so I took what he loved most and ran it through a chop shop. I dissolved the company. I ruined his life’s work and took great pleasure in its disintegration. I also signed off on his DNR with a smile on my face. It was as close to killing the bastard as I could get.”
She freezes, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. Only someone with a tarnished soul would take pleasure in something like that.
But I continue, filling the quiet with my reasoning. “I took all that money and bought this place, and then I took the rest and started a shelter downtown for victims of domestic violence. I fund it and am on the board.” I hold my hands up and look around myself. “My mother told me on her death bed, before she succumbed to her injuries, that she wished she’d stayed in Ruby Creek and run a racing farm. So that’s what I decided I’d do.”
Mira swallows audibly. I think I’ve poured some water on her fire. “Good.” Her head bobs as though my answer pleases her. And then she moves to unlock the stall. She stops, though, before she steps down to check on the colt, and looks back over her shoulder. “Are you out to hurt my friends or their business?”
Her dark eyes are almost a perfect match for her black hair in the dim barn. Like flawlessly polished onyx. Her lips are rose-petal pink and so delectably soft. I could press her up against the wall right now and taste her. But that’s not taking it slow, and I don’t want to blow this.
“No.” The one word rings out between us as I hold her gaze, willing her to believe me. Willing her to see me as more than my past mistakes. “I promise.”
Her lips thin as she regards me. “Okay. I’ll be here at three tomorrow. Don’t wear a suit.”
My chest warms at the thought that we’re still on for ourfakedate tomorrow. “Why not?”
“No one will believe I’d bring a guy who wears suits home. Just…” She looks me up and down. “Keep it casual. You already don’t look like my type.”
I almost laugh.We’ll see about that.
As she brushes past me, I murmur conspiratorially, “Is it because I’m not purple and made of silicone?”
And I swear I see her blush.
* * *
“They’re never goingto buy this.”
Mira is talking, but all I can focus on is her hands clamping down on the bare part of her thighs, just above her knees. She’s wearing some white lacy dress, with white converse sneakers, and a jean jacket. I should have my eyes on the road, butgoddamn. Watching her hands grip her body beneath that hemline is practically pornography.
“Buy what?” I reply, forcing my eyes back to the charcoal road winding through bright green hills.
After a rainy spring, it’s an unseasonably warm day and it feels like everything that was brown has suddenly popped into this vibrant green. I’m glad I have my sunglasses for the drive… and so I can creep on Mira discreetly.
“You. Me. That we’re together. No fucking chance. I’m so screwed. And everyone will think I’m even more tragic for bringing a fake boyfriend. They’re going to corner you and grill you. You have no clue what you’re in for.”
“Mira—”
