Page 14 of Entangled with a Mountain Man

"More like a nightmare if you ask me," a new voice cuts in, laced with derision.

I spin toward the sound, my heart plummeting as I take in the all-too-familiar face sneering at me from across the street.

Paige is decked out in designer clothes that cost more than my entire wardrobe. And she's not alone.

Flanking her are two other impeccably dressed women, their expressions twisted into matching looks of disdain as they follow Paige's gaze to me.

Shit. Here we go again.

"Well, well," Paige drawls, her ruby-red lips curving into a mocking smile. "If it isn't the little homewrecker herself."

I open my mouth, a biting retort on the tip of my tongue. But Mel beats me to it, stepping forward with her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Can it, Paige," she snaps, her voice ringing with authority. "We were having a perfectly nice morning until you showed up."

Paige's eyes narrow, but there's a flash of uncertainty in their icy depths as she takes in Mel's defensive stance. I get the feeling these two have history—and not the good kind.

"Melanie," she says finally, her tone sickly sweet in a way that sets my teeth on edge. "I didn't realize you were keeping such... interesting company these days."

One of the other women—a tall, willowy brunette with dramatic makeup—lets out a derisive snort. "What, you're friends with trash now? That's low, even for you."

White-hot anger lances through me at her words, momentarily robbing me of speech. I've been called plenty of names in my life, but there's something about how this stranger sneers at it like I'm something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

Beside me, I can feel Mel tensing, her entire body vibrating with barely contained fury. I think she might launch herself across the street for a split second and claw that woman's eyes out.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the tension drains from her in a long, slow exhale. Her voice is low and measured when she speaks again—and all the more terrifying for it.

"Listen up, Heather, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," she bites out, her words clipped and precise. "You don't want to start something you can't finish, you feel me?"

The other woman—Heather, I guess—falters, her bravado slipping as she takes in the steel behind Mel's words. Paige, however, remains infuriatingly composed, her signature smirk firmly in place.

"My, my," she murmurs, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "Such language from the mouth of a good Christian girl. What would your mother say?"

Mel's jaw tightens, but she holds Paige's gaze, refusing to be cowed. "My mamma taught me to call bullshit when I see it, and you reek of it. And standing around letting you tear into my friend ain't about to happen."

Tension crawls through my body.

Part of me wants to grab Mel and hightail it out of here before things get really ugly. But the other part—the part that's spent too many years being dismissed and looked down on—won't let me back down so easily.

I step forward until I'm shoulder-to-shoulder with Mel, holding Paige's gaze steadily.

"You got a problem with me, Paige?" I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral. "Or are you just looking to start drama 'cause your life is that sad and empty?"

There's a sharp intake of breath from the other two women—clearly, they weren't expecting me to fight back. But Paige doesn't so much as blink, her perfectly arched brows raised in a look of mild surprise.

"My, someone's grown a backbone," she muses, giving me an appraising once-over. "I must admit, Mackenzie, I'm a little impressed."

The way she says my name, all drawn out and dripping with condescension, makes me want to punch her smug face. But I hold my ground, refusing to let her get under my skin.

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised what a girl's capable of when she's got nothing left to lose," I shoot back, allowing a hint of challenge to bleed into my tone.

Paige's eyes narrow fractionally, but that infuriating smirk never wavers. "Is that so? Well, in that case, allow me to lay it all out for you."

She takes a step forward, her gaze boring into mine with an unsettling intensity.

"This is my town, Mackenzie," she says, her voice low and laced with quiet menace. "I was born and raised here, just like my parents and their parents before them. My family helped build this place from the ground up, and we're owed a certain... respect because of that."

The word respect drips from her tongue like something foul, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Here we go with the small-town superiority complex.

---