Page 69 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

"So what do you say, Stephy-boy? Do we have an accord?" I ask, smiling sweetly at him.

I see the emotion flick over his face; know it when I've won. Begrudgingly, Stephen says, "We have a deal."

"So you'll stop poaching, telling no one you know about what is in this little town, and never stepping foot here again?" I reassert, holding my hand out.

"Correct," Stephen says, reaching for my hand.

At the last moment, I pull mine back and say, "Great! Thanks for the confirmation. By the way, this whole thing was recorded:" I point quickly towards Dante on the opposite balcony, with a camera trained on the four of us at the hotel door. "Toodles!"

Then, hoping I look more confident than I feel, I turn on my heel and march away from Stephen, hopefully for the last time.

27

Cheat

The movie Jay and I started a little while ago is not holding my attention. Atall. The town has been quiet for the past few days, even if I've torn all across the forest. Ran with abandon after the White's departure.

Jay's birthday is coming up, and I don't know what to get him. I've made some things in the forge that he might like, but I don't know. It doesn't feel adequate.

Combined with my anxiety over whatever is happening between Saint and me, my worries about Jay's birthday are likely to send me careening off of a cliff.

Aggie's advice keeps rattling around in my brain: JusttellJay. Minutes drag by with the movie droning on and on until finally, I can't take it anymore.

"I have to tell you something," I say, picking at the skin around my pointer finger. The nail has regrown a bit, but not much. We're lying on the bed, and the house is otherwise quiet. Snow falls outside, big flakes clinging to window panes, piling up on the tree branches.

"What's that Gorgeous?" Jay asks, turning to look at me fully, biceps flexing on either side of his head. Today, his eyes are slightly more green than blue. He's not wearing a shirt, which is a distraction. So is our blanket bunched up around his hips.

"I think… well." Suddenly, my tongue is tied in knots, and I don't know what to say or where to begin. I feel like I am going to puke if I move. If Ibreathe.

Jay seems to notice my distress. "You can tell me anything, Darlin'."

"Ugh, you're so nice, and you look likethat, and I'm a fucking mess," I grumble, covering my flaming face with my hands. Jay with bed head and bedroom eyes is a killer combination.

"Darlin, what's going on?" Jay murmurs, tugging gently on my hands to bare my face to him.

"Ugh!" I grumble again, more than a little embarrassed and worried. Staring straight in his eyes, I decide just to blurt it out. Rip off the bandaid. "I have feelings for Saint."

"You do?" Jay asks, pressing a kiss on the pounding pulse point of my wrist.

I sigh at the contact, mumbling a resigned "yes."

"Why does that make you sad, Gorgeous?" Jay asks, leaning on his elbow, searching my face.

"BECAUSE!" I jerk upright, nearly standing from the bed, but Jay doesn't let me go that far. "You're amazing and wonderful and too good for me because your birthday is in a few weeks, and I'm sitting here wondering if another three-way with Saint would count as a gift!" I wail, flopping back against the pillows.

He chuckles softly at my dramatics before asking another question. "So you like being shared?" His arm flexes his arms around my middle as he kisses along my collarbone.

"Yes, I liked it, yousimpleton." I sass, flicking the back of his head in frustration. He bites my nipple through my shirt in return, and I stifle a moan with a surprised gasp.

"Don't get bratty, Artemis," Jay commands, sending a shiver down my spine. "I need to know if you like these types of things. I'm not looking to fuck this up by pushing your boundaries."

"I'll do what I want,Jay."I immediately fire back.

"Do you meanwhoyou want?" His question makes my stomach turn.

"No,that is not what I meant." It's about more than just sex with Saint. I don't know how it happened, but the curly-haired fuck wormed his way into the confines of my heart.

"You can, though. I'm not your master," Jay responds softly, shifting to lay between my thighs.