Page 9 of Forsaken Oath

“If I can make a suggestion, The Guac burger is the best thing on the truck.”

My gaze flies to the menu again, zeroing in on the item in question. Angus beef, pecanwood-smoked bacon, sharp cheddar cheese, Sriracha garlic aioli, and house-made guacamole. Damn, that sounds delicious.

I nod, a few dips of my chin.

“But you can’t go wrong with The Classic either. Even The Hawaiian if you’re into fruit on your burgers. What kind of person are you, hm? Spicy or predictable? Or maybe you’re thespontaneoussort?”

He says the word like he’s saying a whole damn sentence, but I don’t really understand the language. I don’t need to be fluent to recognize it though. It’s the same kind of energy that dozens of guys from home dish out.

Disappointment fizzles in my gut like carbonated water. I’ve had enough of the small town playboy types to last me ten lifetimes.

I honestly don’t even know why I’m disappointed. Except that maybe I was thinking about taking Margot’s crazy advice and going home with someone tonight. Really letting my hair down just for a night. And for some insane reason, I thought this handsome stranger would be the perfect contender for a one-night stand.

I realize now how ridiculous that was. And presumptuous. I drag my hand over my face, annoyance with myself flaring hot in my chest.

I’m saved from replying when the line moves, and I step up to the counter. I place an order for The Guac, fried pickles, and a frozen Coke. I swear to god I can feel his smirk pinned to the back of my neck, but I don’t check as I pay for my food.

I don’t look at him when I slide a few feet over, to the window at the end of the food truck. I don’t look at him when he steps up next to me, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes mine.

“So, what movie’s playing?”

I give him my attention, a frown tugging down my brows. “You came to a drive-in without knowing what movie was playing?”

He grins, a full-on dimpled smile. “Sure did.”

I arch a brow, curious now despite myself. “Why?”

His brows mirror mine, his smile widening. “Why not?”

I bet he gets whatever he wants when he flashes that smile. My lips tug down in the corners, and I glance away. What would it be like to be that free? To go to the movies on a Wednesday night just because? To live without the crushing weight of responsibility?

I hear the call for my food, and I reach up to grab the bag before turning back to him. He’s watching me, but there’s no pressure in his gaze—just a quiet interest that makes my heart beat a little faster than I’d like.

“Enjoy the movie,” he says, his tone a little softer now.

“Yeah, you too,” I reply, keeping my voice neutral.

I walk back to my car, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder at him. It’s better not to. The absolute last thing I need is to get involved with a man while I’m technically on a job.

4

ELOISE

I forcemyself to shove all thoughts of blue-eyes and backward ball caps aside as I head back to my car. I settle in, balancing my food on the dash and tuning the radio to the right station just as the movie starts.Signs. It’s a classic. Scary without being horror. Margot went through an alien obsession a few years ago, so I’ve seen this movie a handful of times already. But watching it here, surrounded by endless farmland at a drive-in? That takes the experience to a whole new level.

The screen flickers to life, and I crank up the volume, letting myself get lost in the familiar scenes. The sound fills my car, loud and immersive, pulling me under just as the tension in the movie rises. This scene is wild—frantic voices, booming sound effects—a perfect recipe to freak you out. The kind of noise that vibrates through your chest.

A gust of wind bellows through my open windows, sending my bag of half-eaten popcorn skidding across my dash. I lunge for it just as twin beams of headlights flash across the screen. I shrug it off, figuring someone wanted to ditch out before the end of the movie. Probably that couple a few cars down from me.They’ve been mauling each other on the hood of his car for most of the movie.

But then I see another pair flicker on. And then another.

My mouth parts as I look around and see people get out of their cars and start running. “What the hell?”

Is this some kind of weird small town thing people do? Go to the drive-in but leave before the movie is over? I don’t understand.

Why is everyone leaving?

Icy fingers tiptoe across my shoulders, wrapping around my neck. My intuition roars to life, demanding I stop and take notice. It’s never been wrong before, not once. I smash the stereo button off, cutting the volume out completely. Instead of silence like I expect, I somehow still hear something.

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