Page 25 of Forget Me Not

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a pain in the fucking ass,” he grits, reaching out and grabbing my hand, just as I step up onto the porch. “Want to tell me why you’re so pissed off? Was Crusty’s love ballad a little too much or was it the man at the bar?”

Both, but I’ll be damned if he knows that.

God, what I wouldn’t give to still be tipsy.

“What did he want?”

The audacity of this man.

“You and I barely know each other, Reid. Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“So, why are you harassing me about it?”

Something flashes across his normally indifferent gaze. I force myself to take a step back, out of his grasp because it’s just too much. “Because you do.”

“Oh, because you’re the only person allowed to piss me off?” His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t answer me.

“What did he want, Nova?”

I swallow down the shakiness in my voice before I make a fool out of myself. Reid doesn’t care about my problems any more than he cares about helping me fix the inn. This island, the inn . . . me . . . it’s a distraction. Something to occupy his time before he leaves.

“He wanted to buy the inn.”

“And?”

“They’ve been hounding me for months.”

“Who has?”

“I don’t know,” I snap, wrapping my arms around myself. Goosebumps rise on my skin from the chilly air blowing in off the Atlantic. A storm will be coming soon and in Port Nova, they can be deadly if you’re caught out in one. “Some company from Portland.”

“And you’ve told them no?”

“I tell them no every time, they just always manage to find me.”

His eyes flare with a darkness I’ve never seen before. A sinister possessiveness that he tries to hide, but I can see it.

And it’s fucking terrifying.

“My mom and dad want me to do it and get rid of the place.”

“And you don’t want to.” It’s not a question.

I shrug, fighting against the tear threatening to slip down my cheek and failing miserably.

“It’s home.”

“Home is wherever you make it, Nova.”

I shake my head. That’s where he’s wrong. “For you. Home for me is right here when I spent all my best days growing up. Giving up on the inn is giving up on myself. My grandparents and everything they started.”

“So don’t.”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. Of course, he doesn’t get it. “Thanks for the advice.”

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