Page 33 of One Billion Reasons

I grind my teeth at the stupid nickname. “Yeah, except I didn’t break Amanda’s heart. It was all business. Everyone knows that. I’m happy for her.”

Harold snorts. “Not to hear her father tell it. Henry Richardson hates your guts, and not a day goes by that he doesn’t bemoan your treatment of his daughter.”

Fucking hell. If that’s the rumor Henry is spreading, then I need to talk to Catherine before he poisons her against me. She’ll never believe I’ve changed if he gets to her first, and she’ll hate me even more if she thinks I treated Amanda poorly. We round the top of the hill onto a flat area. There are tables with wine and snacks. The women are already here, drinking wine, and Richard beckons us over. “The women made it up first. Turns out they are much better hikers than we are.”

My eyes immediately scan for Lane. Of the group of thirty or so women, she’s not among them.

“Where’s Lane?” I turn to Amanda, who frowns.

“Who?”

“Lane. My, uh, girlfriend.” My tongue feels thick in my mouth.

“Um, she came with us. I’m just not sure where she went.” Amanda turns back around, and my stomach drops. God, these people are the worst.

“I saw her taking a break on the trail,” Catherine volunteers. Catherine. She points down the other side of the hill. “She said she was going to take some photos. But that was about twenty minutes ago.”

I take a step toward Catherine. Now’s my chance. I can talk to her while the exercise high is making her giddy, and the wine is loosening her tongue. My pulse speeds. I scan for Lane again. What if she’s hurt?

Shit. I need that property. I need to create a legacy for my father. But Lane.

Protect her, Miles, please. Fucking hell. I turn away from the party and head down the trail the women indicated. It’s steeper than our path up was, with little scrub trees and boulders. I’m impressed at how quickly the women made it up the trail.

And I’m missing out on the best chance I have to convince Catherine I’m a new man. Lane is probably fine. She probably stopped to take some photos, got distracted, and is staring out over the ocean. She’s perfectly content in her own world, and impractical as hell most of the time. She wouldn’t even think that people would be looking for her. And normally, they wouldn’t be. My heart pinches a little. I’ve always been Liam and Lane’s person.

I spot her leaning against a boulder about twenty feet down the trail. She’s right at the edge of the trail, where the side of the hill turns into a sheer drop. She’s admiring the view, and anger tears into me. My relief at her safety only stokes it higher. Why do you care? Because she’s my best friend’s sister. Because she was once my friend, too.

“What the fuck, Lane?” I shout, and she startles, turning. Her eyes are huge. “We’re supposed to be at the party.”

“Did you come down here just to shout at me?” she yells back. “Go away, Miles. I don’t want to fight with you right now.”

“I was worried about you. But now I can see that you’re admiring the view and ignoring what we came here for.” She flinches and leans down to rub her ankle. Is she hurt?

“What you came here for. I couldn’t care less about your stupid property.” She turns back to the ocean view, and I throw up my hands.

“Fuck this,” I mutter. Lane is a lost cause. “I’m going back up,” I shout. “Join me or don’t, Lane. I don’t care.”

She turns back quickly, her mouth open to respond, but her sharp movement makes her foot slip. Her arms fly wide as she tries to catch herself, and before I can think, I’m moving, sliding down the trail. One step, two, and I’m hauling her against me, holding her close while she shakes. She makes a pained sound.

I sink to my knees in front of her, not caring that the gravel is digging into my skin.

“Where does it hurt?”

17

Lane

This man kneels for no one. The ridiculous thought I had about Miles that day of the engagement shoot runs through my head. It must be the shock of nearly falling getting to me. I shake it away and focus on where his long fingers are manipulating my ankle.

I hiss a breath. The dull pain sharpens as he touches me.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Lane. It’s my fault you tripped.” He keeps his touch featherlight, and an unwelcome shiver runs up my leg.

“I twisted it before you came down. Like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” He looks up, and his eyes are shadowed with guilt. “You almost fell over the edge.”

“Did I?”

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