Page 3 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
“Kingsley, I swear to God?—”
The goat ripped the rest of the plant free, roots dangling triumphantly.
Then turned.
And trotted directly into the road.
“Wait!” Delaney shouted, sprinting after it.
The low rumble of an engine rolled down the street just as a delivery truck turned the corner a block away.
Shit!
“Delaney!” I shouted.
I lunged forward and immediately remembered I was on the ladder when it jerked violently beneath me. I jumped the remaining rungs and hit the pavement harder than recommended by every orthopedic guideline known to modern medicine, and took off running.
Time stuttered.
The truck’s horn blared.
Tires screamed against the asphalt.
The engine roared closer.
Delaney finally looked up from the goat just as it bounded past me like a tiny lavender-scented criminal.
Her eyes widened.
Instead of running back across the street, she froze.
The truck was moving at least thirty miles an hour.
At that distance, we had only seconds.
I sprinted.
My shoes pounded the pavement, but I wasn’t gaining ground fast enough. I changed my trajectory.
I was too slow.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Fuck.
I wasn’t going to make it.
Then I did.
At the last second, I caught her around the waist and yanked her backward into my chest.
The truck blasted past us, the mirror missing my elbow by inches.
Delaney gasped as her momentum kept her off balance and she slammed into me.
We crashed onto the sidewalk in front of her shop.
I twisted mid-fall, instinct taking over, pulling her tighter against me so my body took most of the impact instead of hers.
