Page 41 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
“Okay,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my sternum. “We’re fine. It’s all fine.”
It was time to go meet him.
I grabbed my keys, called a goodbye to Cheryl, and headed out the back door to where my car was parked behind the store. The day was sunny and bright, and the earlier chill was gone. I cracked the window as I drove, and with each mile of listening to the wind whisper through it, I felt lighter.
Today was going to be great.
Little did he know that I planned on being early.
Petty? Sure.
But if Marc thought he was going to run this whole event as his own personal dictatorship, he had another think coming.
I turned the corner and pulled into the shelter lot, and my satisfaction bloomed instantly.
I was a whole thirty minutes early.
I killed the engine and stepped out, smoothing my sweater down with a sense of satisfaction, and the air of stepping into a formal gathering.
The front door opened, and my smile broadened—ready to say hi to Theo or one of the volunteers, or literally anyone who wasn’t?—
Marc.
He stepped outside.
And my smile died.
My nemesis, looking way too nice in dark jeans and a fitted long-sleeve Henley that sent my brain in a direction that was wildly unhelpful. Sunlight caught in his dirty-blond curls, and his tortoiseshell glasses sat low on his nose—pushed down while reading, probably.
He looked up and our eyes met. Heat sparked in my chest and lower —a throbbing, traitorous warmth that made no sense and immediately pissed me off. My skin prickled. I hated that he could affect me like this just by existing.
Then he glanced at his watch, and back at me, like I was late. “You’re early,” he said, his gaze stayed on me like it always does—neutral and controlled. It was infuriating.
I adjusted the strap of my purse. “So are you.”
The air between us crackled with that specific static charge before a storm. I wanted to push his glasses up his nose to see if he’d flinch. I wanted to call him Marcus and watch him bristle. I wanted a lot of things I had no business wanting, and zero intention of examining right now.
“Did you read the guidelines?” he asked.
“Of course I did,” I lied smoothly, holding his gaze.
His eyes narrowed a fraction—just enough to tell me he was pretty sure I hadn’t. But not one hundred percent sure. Good. Let him be thrown off.
I smiled sweetly.
His shoulders didn’t move, but something in his expression shifted—so small most people wouldn’t notice. I was not most people, and a twisted sense of satisfaction warmed my chest. “Anything else you need from me,Marcus?” I said, giving in to my petty side.
Oh, yes.That definitely got under his skin.
He blinked once, slowly. “I prefer Marc,” he said, voice clipped.
I shrugged, feigning innocence. “Right. Marc. Sorry.”
He stared at me, possibly deciding whether or not I was worth arguing with. The answer was obviously a hard no, but he still had to work with me, and I was going to make sure he didn’t forget that.
I took a step closer, lifting my chin. “Let’s get this over with.”
His gaze dropped—briefly—to my mouth, just long enough to be impossible to ignore.
