Page 115 of Double Bucked

“Hot damn.” Ransom interrupts massacring his plate and points his fork at me. “I don’t know what you put in pancakes, but it’s amazing.”

Cornmeal. But I won’t tell him that. “Trade secret.”

Ransom shakes his head. A dollop of syrup clings to the scruff around his mouth. “If this secret agent thing doesn’t work out, you could make a decent living as a chef.”

“Noted.”

I hope he enjoys it. I want him to enjoy it.

Every man deserves a decent last meal.

You see, I figured it out.

Claire will never choose between us.

That’s okay. I can’t fault her.

Her father—the only family she’s ever known—broke her. He gave her a heart that craves love the way a sponge craves water. He deprived her of affection, and now she’s gone greedy for it.

Well, I’ll give her all of it. I’ll give her the love she needs.

The love she deserves.

And she’ll learn that my love is all she needs. All she’ll ever need.

I am all she will ever need.

Which is why…

I am going to kill Riley Ransom. Today. At the polo match.

37

EVERETT

We’re back to the lion’s den.

The Equestrian Club is bustling by the time we arrive. Event trucks are parked outside. They have workers on ladders looping streams of flowers on the overhang.

Tomorrow is the Belleflower Festival. They’re in crunch time now.

My music app plays a playlist called “calming, chill vibes.” I need it.

I may be on pins and needles, but even I have time to notice…

Claire looks fucking stunning.

She’s wearing a beige pantsuit with a dark brown trim, a loose ribbon at her collar, and thin-strapped, dark heels. Her makeup is subtle but sharp, deftly highlighting her smoky, dark eyes. She’s curled her hair, and it falls in buoyant, swoopy waves around her shoulders.

Since we arrived in Belleflower, Claire has been teetering on the edge of a complete and utter breakdown. This is the first time I’ve seen the Claire I know—confident, with her chin tilted upward, her posture perfect, and a look in her eyes that says, Go ahead. Try me.

Even the click of her heels is an aphrodisiac.

When we enter, the hostess gives us a distressed smile. “So sorry,” she says. “We’re closed for a private event.”

I can feel Claire puffing up like a cat with its tail trampled underfoot. Before Claire can argue her way in, a hand slips over the hostess’s shoulder. “Don’t you recognize Belleflower royalty?” Arris steps around the podium. He’s dressed in a maroon suit with dark fringe around the shoulders. He takes Claire’s hand and gives it a kiss. “Apologies, dear. Come on in.”

He moves his hand to the small of Claire’s back, guiding her inside. Ransom and I follow in their wake.

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