Page 36 of Forsaken Oath

“The fuck, Carter,” the driver shouts, slamming on his brakes. He leans halfway out his window, open palm smacking against his car door. “You almost hit me, asshole.”

I stand still, suspended in shock.

Beau climbs out of his car, standing between the door and the frame. He smirks at the driver of the Mustang. “Aw, c’mon,Slick Rick. I thought you were gonna take my crown this year? You’re not gonna last long in the Gauntlet if you freeze every time a car gets near you.”

“Slick Rick?” I mutter under my breath.

The driver of the Mustang—Slick Rick, I guess—scowls. His face turns an angry shade of red. “Any time you wanna race, man, just let me know. We don’t need to wait for the Gauntlet for me to embarrass you.”

He finally gives me his attention, pinning me with those dark blue eyes of his. Fuck me, how is he hotter under a halo of yellow from the street lights? No one is supposed to look good with those harsh shadows.

But I shouldn’t be surprised. I bet Beau Carter is the exception to a lot of things.

“Another time. I just found something I lost,” Beau says, holding my gaze.

I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.

“Her? Good luck with that one,” Rick says with a laugh. His posse of jackals chime in, and it still sounds as weird as it did the first time I heard it. It’s so timely, if I didn’t see people in the back, I would think it’s some kind of laugh track.

“Yo,Slick Rick? Do us all a favor, man, and fuck off, yeah?” Beau says, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Fuck you, Carter,” Rick snaps, jabbing his index finger toward Beau. He revs his engine like an asshole, tires burning rubber on the cement as he takes off.

His gaze drifts over me, his smile this slow, lazy thing that does something fluttery to my insides. His gaze lingers on places it shouldn’t, the heat of his stare a tangible caress.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you, Peach.”

17

ELOISE

His voice issmooth and low, like whiskey poured over ice. I fold my arms across my chest and lift my chin a little. There’s no way I’m going to show him how affected I am by his presence. It only occurs to me now that he didn’t look all that surprised to see me.

His dark blond hair peaks out from underneath his backward hat, the scruff along his jaw thicker than I remembered. A fitted black t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders and muscular chest.

He looks like some kind of bad boy fantasy brought to life.

The kind of disheveled that makes women do stupid things, like fantasize about kissing him and then wondering if once could ever be enough. Those kinds of thoughts are a dangerous breeding ground for reckless decisions.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he murmurs.

I fold my arms across my chest, rolling my shoulders back. “Here I am.”

“So you are,” he muses. His lips twist to the side as his gaze rolls over me. He takes his time, like he’s savoring the sight of me.

There’s a beat of silence. Then two. By the third weighted pause, I’m squirming out of my skin. It’s not uncomfortable, being the focus of his undivided attention. Quite the opposite actually, I think I like it a little too much. But I'm not about to let him know that.

“You didn’t have to step in.” I jerk my chin toward to the side, where Slick Rick and his Mustang left.

“Okay,” he says.

His simple reply irritates me. “I had it.”

“I know.” His grin never falters.

My eyes narrow into a glare. He’s playing games with me, and I don’t have the patience for it. Not tonight. Not after the week I’ve had.

"Then why did you intervene?" I demand, my voice sharp.

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