Page 71 of Rushing Into Love

Thank goodness they’re still out. I’ll pack in peace, head to the airport, and catch the next flight out. By tomorrow morning, I’ll be back in LA. This was all a huge mistake.

Shoving clothing randomly into my duffel as quickly as I could, I scooped up my toiletries, then my laptop, taking a second to jot a quick note:

Dear Brooks—

Thanks for letting me stay with you. Things got crazy with work—had to catch the first flight back to LA. I’ll call you when I land. Don’t worry. Give Alex a big hug and kiss for me.

Love you and miss you.

Xoxoxoxo,

Bree

I left the note on the counter by her phone charger where I was sure she would see it, dimmed the kitchen light, grabbed my keys, and locked the door behind me. Throwing my duffel and laptop in the trunk, I fired up my Malibu and peeled out of the driveway, typing ‘Hartsfield Atlanta Airport’ into the GPS as I drove.

Instinctively, I knew the only way I could stop this pain was to leave it all behind: the hurt, the humiliation, the anger, the sadness.

I’d made a huge mistake getting involved with Ryder McCauliffe. I shouldn’t have fallen for someone that damn perfect. It could only end one way—badly.

The shock of the moment faded with every mile I put between me and Peachtree Grove. It was replaced by a dull ache nestling in my chest, squeezing my heart with every single beat. I had a sneaking suspicion that this ache was going to stick around for a good long while, too. Ryder McCauliffe was not someone you got over in a day.

I wondered if I’d ever get over him at all.

18

Ryder

“What the hell?” I jerked my head back, wrangling out of Catwoman’s vice grip on my arm as the lights flickered, then dimmed again. “What the hell are you doing?”

Catwoman inched closer to me, rubbing her leather bodysuit against my armor seductively. “You know what I’m doing, Ryder. Don’t play dumb.”

Shayna.I recognized her voice, her musky scent, the long, dark hair.How’d she find me?How’d she know about this party?And where was Bree?

I scanned the room frantically, but couldn’t make out much in the darkness. Shayna stepped even closer to me, planting her pointy boot on my shoe.

“Ryder! I know you still want me. Stop playing hard to get,” she purred, leaning into my neck, so close I smelled the alcohol on her breath.

I needed to be smart about this, try to get Bree out of here without Shayna noticing. But where was she? My heart hammered hard in my chest; I was sure Shayna could hear it, she was so damn close.

“Ryder!” A masked witch grabbed my arm. There were actually two identical witches standing there, both alarmed. I instantly recognized them as Claire and Sue Ann.

“It’s Bree! She saw what happened and freaked out. She dropped her drinks and bolted,” Sue Ann said, smoothing her hair at a frenetic pace.

“What? How?” I stood there, stunned, digesting this info. Shards of glass littered the floor, glinting in the strobe light. Shit, they were telling the truth. Shayna had orchestrated that little show, making certain Bree would see it.

Breaking free of Shayna’s grip, I jogged towards the door.

“Be careful, Ryder!” Claire shouted over the music, but I was already halfway to the door.

Pushing out into the cold night air, I surveyed the porch, but there was no sign of Bree. She couldn’t have gone far—she didn’t have a car. I ran to my SUV and fired it up, peeling out of the driveway. She had to go to her sister’s house. That was the only logical move.

I did forty-five down the street, depressing the gas as far as I dared in a neighborhood at ten o’clock at night. I didn’t want to hit somebody’s dog, but I needed to get to Bree as quickly as possible and explain the situation, protect her from Shayna.

Turning down Brooklyn’s street, my heart sunk. Bree’s car wasn’t in the driveway.Shit. Where could she have gone? Lights were on in the house, though. Maybe her sister would know where she was.If she’ll even talk to you,said a tiny voice in my head. I chose to ignore it, slamming my car into park.

I sprinted up to the house, rapped lightly on the door. After a few agonizing seconds, the door opened.

“Ryder? What are you doing here?” Brooklyn raised her eyebrows at me, clearly confused.

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