Page 39 of Tempt Our Fate

It’s silent for a period of time—thankfully. The only sound that can be heard is the rustling of the trees in the wind and the clopping sound of hooves against rocks.

My thighs hurt from clenching them so tightly around the horse to keep me on top. It’s the only solution besides wrapping my arms around her middle to help me from falling off on either side. I can only do it for so long. When we get to a point where we’re at such an incline that I press against her fully from shoulders to groin, I have no choice but to grip the saddle on either side of her hips.

She lets out an exasperated sigh before shoving the reins in one of her hands and pulling my arms around her with the other.

“I’m fine,” I argue, trying to pull my arms away.

“Stop being so stubborn. If you fall off the horse and break a leg, I won’t be able to get you back on the horse, and then we’ll be stuck up here together for even longer than necessary. So just hold on for thirty more minutes, and we’ll be back at the stables, and you’ll be rid of me since clearly I’m so terrible to be with.”

My lips thin out. She isn’t terrible to be with, and that’s what fucking terrifies me. We don’t get along. We fight more than we have a normal conversation, yet I want to spend more time with her. I don’t mind bickering with her. In fact, I think I enjoy it, and I hate that. I hate that my body wants her, despite my mind saying anyone but her—anyone but someone in this town that I only came to because I wanted to make more money and stick it to my dad.

“I never said you were terrible.”

“So it’s just the thought of kissing me, then?”

My arms tighten around her in frustration. “No. It isn’t that either.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” I finally answer after a prolonged silence. There’s no use getting into it. I’m angry with myself for even thinking about kissing her—for telling her up there that I wanted to. And now I’m having to deal with the consequences.

Pippa shakes her head, letting out a long sigh of disbelief. “You really are just an asshole, Camden Hunter. Why did I think you’d be any different?”

23

CAMDEN

“And then thecar blew up, and everyone died.”

Emma’s words catch me by surprise, pulling me from my thoughts of a week ago when I was still in Sutten Mountain. It’s been a week since I made a break for it the moment Pippa and I got back to her family’s ranch.

And a week of me wondering why I still can’t get the feisty brunette out of my mind.

“Who died?” I ask Emma, almost getting lost in my thoughts all over again.

She narrows her eyes at me from across my desk. She’d come to find Margo, her best friend, but Beck and Margo disappeared almost two hours ago and haven’t returned, even though we’re supposed to be discussing setting up her next show.

“It’s my job as your friend to tell you when you’re being rude,” Emma begins, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. “So, Camden,” she says sweetly, reminding me of the way my nanny used to speak to me before scolding me. “Stop being rude and listen to me. This is important.”

My finger brushes along my top lip. “When did we become friends?” I tease, knowing it’ll ruffle her feathers. I wasn’t necessarily looking for another friend when Margo first introduced us—I think wanting us to date, which is comical—but Emma strong-armed her way into my life. She’s the sister I never had. Sometimes I enjoy her company, and sometimes she knows how to push every single one of my buttons to drive me nuts.

She sits back in the office chair, putting one of her combat boots on my very expensive desk.

I nod my head toward her muddy shoe, inches away from a stack of very important documents. “Off,” I demand, giving her two seconds to remove it herself. She doesn’t, so I’m not gentle as I push it off the desk, trying not to laugh at the way her face pinches in faked theatrics.

“We’re besties, Camden. Everyone else is busy with their lives. Winnie is off doing I don’t know what because she barely answers our calls, and Margo is off in la-la land in newlywed bliss with Beck. They’ve left us no other option but to be chummy.”

“Chummy?”

“It’s part of my quarter-life crisis to try out new words. Chummy felt right.” She shrugs, picking up a notepad from my desk. There’s no such thing as privacy when it comes to Emma. She reads my notes about the quote for new lighting at the Sutten gallery as if she has any idea what she’s reading.

“Tell me about this quarter-life crisis,” I demand with a big sigh. I know her well enough to know that she won’t leave until we’ve talked about whatever she came here to discuss. Even if she’s having to talk about it with me instead of Margo.

She drops the notepad back onto my desk as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, narrowly missing the glass of water she insisted she needed the moment she came into my office. “That’s so nice of you to ask,” she tells me sarcastically. “Now, are you going to listen this time?”

“Sure,” I answer with a resigned sigh. “It’s not like I have anything else going on.”

Emma claps her hands together, straightening her back to prepare to say what I’m sure is a long story that’ll put me even more behind on my schedule for the day. “I don’t know what I want to do with my life,” she admits, chewing on her lip nervously.

---