Page 30 of Forget Me Not

“She said leave.”

Both Higgins and I pause, turning toward the door in slow motion. Reid stands there, eyes so dark they’re almost black.

Murderous.

A shiver rolls through me at that look. I think if that look was aimed at me, I would wilt like the weakest flower on a rainless summer day.

Higgins straightens, stepping back from me and I finally let out a breath. My heartbeat races in my ears and I slink away from him, pressing myself to the wall on the opposite side of the room.

“It’s a public island. She can’t force me off of it.”

What a stupid, stupid thing to say.

Reid takes a step forward, almost like a predator, hungry for his next meal.

“No, but I can.”

Part of me wants to cheer from just how freaking hot that was. The other part is bubbling with so much adrenaline and anxiety that my hands start to shake.

“Do I need to say it again?” Reid’s voice is calm. Like the ocean before a hurricane. I would be willing to bet he’s just as deadly.

Higgins goes quiet, as if he’s finally got it through his dense skull that Reid might not be the best person to mess with. Slowly, as if he’s afraid Reid will pounce on him, he grabs his briefcase and moves for the door. Reid steps only a foot out of his way, giving him just enough room to slide past and I am reveling in the fact that Higgins is at least a foot shorter than him.

Serves you right, you bitch.

Both Reid and I watch Higgins go and I listen to the sound of his footsteps retreat down the stairs with a final sigh of relief.

Thank God that’s over.

Now, there’s only two problems to deal with. My overactive libido—

—and the man who causes it to go haywire.

Currently, he’s staring at me as if he can read every thought I have, just bouncing around my brain. From the looks of it, he’s not happy.

“Why didn’t you call for me. I was right downstairs. I would have heard.”

“I didn’t need help,” I snap, my temper flaring as embarrassment shows it’s ugly face. I stalk away from him, grabbing another board, and placing it in the pile.

Honestly, why are there so many nails?

“Sure looked like you did,” Reid grits, eyes cold as he watches me angrily stalk the room. “What are you doing?”

“I’m remodeling,” I snap, throwing my hands in the air. Really, I’m just trying to keep my hands busy because they’re shaking. My breath feels like it’s caught in my throat and I’m on the verge of a breakdown.

And all because of one asshole from Portland.

And for once, it’s not the one standing in front of me.

“I don’t need a babysitter. I’m a big girl, and one who’s sick and tired of everyone thinking I can’t handle this inn.”

“So this is you handling it?”

Something in me snaps and for the first time in my life, I don’t shove my anger back.

I grab a board, shoving it on the pile; only to my disappointment, a loose nail on another board stabs into the back of my skin, cutting me open.

The metal slices through my palm and there’s a brief moment where I don’t feel a single thing except for my skin separating.

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