Page 115 of Holding On To Good

Miranda planned on sticking around.

“Just… be careful,” Willow said. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I already told you, I’m not getting back with Miranda.” He stepped toward her, spoke with a deliberation that had the hair at the nape of her neck standing on end. “Just like I already told you, I don’t want Miranda.”

It was like the threat of an oncoming storm. His voice was the thunder in the distance, a low rumble that reverberated across her skin. His words the flash of lightning, a crackle of intention striking at her core.

I don’t want Miranda.

She saw it in his eyes, clear as a bolt of electricity arcing in the sky. Heard the true meaning behind his statement, a sonic boom strong enough to knock her off her feet.

No, he didn’t want Miranda.

He wanted her.

“I have to go,” she said, gesturing vaguely to her SUV. “Don’t want to keep Hayden waiting.”

But she didn’t move. That was the thing about storms. They sucked you in, mesmerized you with their unparalleled beauty, their raw power. Held you in such awe, you began to believe you were a part of it. That you were strong enough to withstand the heaviest rain, the strongest wind without getting hurt.

It was stupid. Stupid and idiotic and foolish to have that much faith in something so much more powerful than you. To have that much hope in something you couldn’t control.

Something that could rip your entire world apart.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Urban said, another lash of that wind, another spark of light.

Another blast of enticement.

“Takeout? With you and Verity?” she asked, needing clarification to dim that light.

Dinner with Urban and his sister would be nothing new. Certainly nothing to be worried about. She’d spent many a Saturday night eating takeout then watching a movie with them. At least until Verity had hit high school and preferred spending Saturday nights with her friends.

Urban shook his head. “At a restaurant. The two of us. I want to take you out, Willow.”

He wanted her and he wanted to take her out. On a date. Tonight.

Yes was on the tip of her tongue, trembling there, like a bird about to take flight.

She clamped down on it. Hard. Imagined feathers flying.

And said what she had to in order to save their friendship. To keep them both safe. “I can’t. I already have plans.”

“Plans?”

She nodded.

“You have plans?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

Urban’s mouth flattened. “Who do you have plans with?”

She could tell from his tone he already knew. Or at least, could hazard a guess. But for some reason he wanted to hear her say it. Maybe that was for the best. What was needed to end this craziness between them for good.

Still, she had to swallow before she could speak, had to push the words past the thickness in her throat. “Finn Calhoun.”

“Calhoun asked you out?”

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Believe it or not, men have asked me out before.” She took a deliberate pause. A bracing inhale. “Just not in this case.”

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