Page 68 of Rival Desires

The whole ‘if I can’t have you, nobody can’ argument was older than dirt, but that didn’t make it any less deadly.

“You’re not getting your claws into him, either!” Becky spat at me, venom practically dripping from her words. “Miss Flirt-a-lot, always throwing herself at every guy in sight.”

Whoa, talk about low blows. Cory attempted to interject, “Becky...”

“It’s cool,” I murmured softly, waving him off. No need to add fuel to the fire.

“Don’t you dare tell him what to do, you bitch!” Becky lunged towards me, the gun in her hand shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

Most people don’t realize that holding a gun steady is a real pain, especially for extended periods, and even more so when you’re trying to manage it with one hand. The longer we kept her ranting, the more her arm would tire out, and hopefully, that would give us a chance to disarm her.

If she didn’t pull the trigger first, that was.

Her face twisted up suddenly, eyes bugging out like a cartoon character. “Wait a minute, did you...did you put a spell on him, you freaking witch?”

I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. But then I saw she was dead serious.

“Nope,” I replied, keeping my cool. “I didn’t do a thing to him.”

“Liar!” she snapped, practically baring her teeth. “You used some hocus pocus to make him notice you, to make him want you.”

Cory tried to pipe up, “She didn’t –” but Becky cut him off with a glare that could have melted steel.

Becky steamrolled right over him, her eyes wild and crazy. “It all fits together now. I couldn’t figure out how he could go from being all sweet and caring, wanting to spend time with me and be with me, to saying he didn’t want me.”

Oh boy, she was really going down the rabbit hole now.

“You did something to him,” she continued, “to make him attracted to you instead, lured him into your clutches, made him want to be with you.” The gun in her hand steadied as she took aim right at me. “And the best way to break the spell is to off the witch who cast it.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

Cory

With adrenaline pumping like crazy, my brain should’ve been a well-oiled machine, firing on all cylinders. But the moment I saw that gun aimed at Rylee, there was only one mantra bouncing around in my head.

Protect Rylee.

Ironically, Rylee seemed to be doing the same, trying to be the hero and get herself in the line of fire.

Then Becky went off on this bizarre tangent about witchcraft, and I realized things had gone from bad to bat-shit crazy. When she mentioned the only way she could have me was by breaking the supposed spell Rylee had cast on me - by killing Rylee, it was the wake-up call that finally cleared the cobwebs from my brain.

“Becky.” I made my voice as sharp as a tack to grab her attention, then softened it. “Look at me, would ya?”

She gave me a quick glance, but her gaze slid right back to Rylee, a glint in her eyes that I didn’t like one bit.

“Becky, hon.” I took a tiny step closer, angling myself to block Rylee from Becky’s view without being too obvious.

Her gaze swung my way; the gun was still trained on Rylee, but at least she was looking at me now. It was time to play the game and make her think I was on her side.

“You were right, Becky.” I kept my tone gentle and soothing like I was coaxing a skittish kitten. “I fucked up, big time.”

“So why’d you push me away?” Her eyes squinted, suspicion written all over her face. “Was it her doing?”

“No, not at all. I don’t want her. She’s my competitor.” I shook my head quickly, hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m the idiot who screwed up here.”

“Then what’s the deal?” Becky asked, eyeing me cautiously.

“I was spooked, to be honest.” A dash of truth always makes a lie more palatable, so I threw in some genuine feelings from the past few weeks - just none that directly involved Becky. “I’ve never been a smooth talker around women, unless I’ve got a few drinks in me. I’m all thumbs and awkwardness.”

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