Page 59 of When Hearts Ignite

The men all groan at the table at his declaration. “Don’t do this, Jack, you’re setting a terrible example for the rest of us.” James feigns puking, before Jess pokes him in the side, to which James curls an arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her hair.

“Completely pussy-whipped. None of this looks appealing,” I grumble, feeling completely out of place with all this nauseating love in the air.

“What do you think about what Jack said, Adrian?” Emily bats her lashes at Adrian, who’s staring at her like he worships the ground she walks on, a look I recognize when I first saw him twelve years ago when he was the poor boy who showed up to my sister’s piano recital at school.

Adrian murmurs, “You’re always right.”

My heart pinches, a postmortem spasm, and I roll my eyes, before tossing my napkin to the table as everyone laughs at my expression.

Don’t you want what they have? The annoying voice whispers in my head. I grip the napkin on the table and wet my lips, pasting a smile on my face.

Squeaaaak.

The door to the courtyard slams open, the sound echoing in the intimate space. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I can feel the prickling of goosebumps on my arm, which has nothing to do with the burst of cool air filtering out from the open doorway. My pulse picks up for no reason and the air thins and feels different.

I hear the faint sounds of someone sniffling as everyone looks behind me with apparent shock on their faces. Frowning, I begin to turn around to see what the commotion is all about.

“Excuse me, miss. Are you okay? Do you need help?” Jack’s deep voice travels across the courtyard as I finally get a look at the interloper interrupting our meal.

Time, for all intents and purposes, ceases to matter.

My heart resurrects, the sight before me more effective than any electrical paddle in the hospital.

My pulse rushes in my ears with the force of a cyclone.

My lungs seize as I slowly rise to a standing position of my own accord.

Everything slows and every cell in my body hums to life after a long slumber.

A beautiful brunette stands mere feet before us.

My eyes cascade up her toned legs, which glimmer with whatever makeup or lotion is on them, to the luscious body with curves for days, clad in this dress—if you can call it a dress—made only of chains of pearls, no fabric to be seen, revealing an expanse of smooth, pale skin playing peekaboo between the chains, heavy teardrop breasts swaying with each breath she takes, small nude colored stickers covering the nipples, and a skin-tone scrap of underwear between her legs.

But it’s not the obscene display of flesh designed to entice our amorous natures that gives me pause—beautiful women are a dime a dozen at The Orchid, it’s the elfin face, slimmer than I remember, and the large, brilliant eyes, a deep purple in the sunlight, and the perfect cupid’s bow lips, coated in a deep red lipstick.

The face that has been haunting my waking hours and lonely nights.

My lungs finally release the breath I’m holding, the sudden shift of the weight off my chest disorienting, and I rake in another deep inhale before I find my voice.

“Grace?”

My voice is rusty, my breathing coming out in pants.

I step forward, my mind and body not registering what I should do next.

I want to run to her and wrap her up in my jacket to block her from the eyes of everyone else in the courtyard. I want to grab her arms, pull her against me, and ask her what the hell is going on and why she disappeared without a trace. I want to know why the tears are trailing down her face. I want to know who hurt her so I can tear them apart piece by piece, delivering revenge tenfold. I want to fold her into my arms and whisper everything will be all right because I’ll take care of her. Because we are never alone when we have each other.

I want to curl my hands around her face and finally fulfill the biggest regret I’ve had in my thirty years on this planet.

I want to kiss her. Fuck, do I want to kiss those pouty red lips.

Instead, I bite my cheek and do nothing. Other than asking, “Is that you?”

My heart is a tsunami behind my rib cage, every muscle in my body fighting the impulse to act on my desires.

The world is suddenly in technicolor again, the vibrant hues of spring after a barren winter.

The brunette gasps in surprise as she turns her attention away from Jack to me. Her eyes widen, her beautiful lips trembling for a split second before her expression shutters. She takes a deep breath and wipes the wetness on her cheeks with the back of her arm.

---