Page 18 of Your Worst Fear
I swallowed as I forced my gaze to the backs of his ears and not on her. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d grow a soft spot for the woman simply because she was showing my attention-whore horse some affection.
She moved under his jaw like I’d suggested, and immediately, he craned his neck and stuck his lip up.
A fucking suck-up, he was.
A smile crested Grace’s lips, and fuck, if there wasn’t a speck of jealousy in my stomach that she was aiming it at him… There was no doubt in my mind that Grace was intriguing in all aspects of the word—in the way her mind worked, why she did the things she did, how she looked, what hobbies she partook in?—
Wait, what were her hobbies besides obviously loving plants? Was that even a big interest of hers, or had she feigned facts at the pool hall for the sake of pissing Dalton off?
No, she had to like them to some extent. She’d gifted Brynne aleafinwater. Apparently it would grow roots or something, but I only knew that because Brynne took it upon herself to inform me when she’d caught me studying it in the kitchen window.
I’d told her the only reason I was looking was because I thought I’d seen a spider eating it.
I’d lied.
But I wouldn’t even admit to myself why I’d taken a small interest in the thing.
“He’s a little show-off,” Grace said, her grin wide as she craned her neck to look up at his big lip flapping in the air.
“Bigshow-off,” I corrected. “Heloves women, especially. Thinks they bring all the treats.” As if my supply of three carrots a day wasn’t enough.
“He see a lot of women?” she asked, feigning curiosity for his sake, but I knew it was for her, too.
Though it didn’t make sense for either of us to care.
That wasn’t the point of our association with each other.
“No.” Any hint of lightheartedness that might have coursed through me moments before was wiped clean, replaced with irritation at her existence.
I should’ve killed her when I had the chance.
Or never untied her from that chair.
Her hand dropped back to her side, and I noticed small smudges in the polish. I hoped it annoyed her.
“I’ll take care of the note,” she said.
Confusion struck me for a moment before I realized the topic she was steering us back to. I’d honestly forgotten about it for a moment, getting lost in her once again.
“What’s your plan? To write a letter back, or snipe them from the woods?”
She rolled her eyes as if that was the most outrageous thing she’d ever heard. “I don’t know who sent it to be able to do that, but good idea.”
She turned, strutting back to her black sedan.
I almost called after her, wanting to know what the hell she was thinking. But when I realized it was because I didn’t want her to do anything irrational alone, I stopped myself.
Let her get herself hurt.
Maybe that’d teach her not to keep secrets from me again.
Chapter 8
Grace
Club Fourteen was a clusterfuck of vulgar scenes. From naked women scattered around in suggestive positions to cocaine stuck to nearly every man’s nose in the establishment, there wasn’t a single place you could look without feeling the need to wash your eyes out.
Flashbacks to my first visit here attempted to filter past my defenses, but I shoved them aside. I didn’t have time to get distracted tonight.
