Page 8 of Forsaken Oath

I’d be out of here and in the next county faster than the gaggle of men sneering at me can shotgun their beers. I catch the eye of one guy in particular and shoot him a smirk and a finger wave. His scowl melts into a smirk and he tips his chin up at me in that universal way men do. Some things never change, no matter what town you’re in.

I find an open spot next to a metallic navy blue truck, angling my car so I have the perfect view of the screen. I park and roll my windows down fully, letting the warm air in. A smile tugs atmy lips when a light breeze wraps around my hair and drags it across my face. The faded peach color of the box dye my sister talked me into last month temporarily blinds me, but instead of pushing it off, I just close my eyes. Letting my head fall back against the seat, I let the sounds of Oak Creek surround me.

Nearby laughter and engines rumbling. Cicadas singing and birds chirping. The sun’s fingers reach through the open window, caressing my eyelids with warmth.

And my heart feels lighter than it has in months. Years maybe.

When I open my eyes, the sky has darkened into shades of indigo. Streaks of dusky pink and fiery orange cling to the edges, fading but not gone as the first stars begin to blink awake. I must have drifted off for a bit, exhaustion pulling me under the moment I dropped my guard.

The scent of popcorn and burgers wafts through the open windows, and my stomach grumbles.

Popcorn. Burgers. Frozen Coke. Not necessarily in that order. I might even splurge and get some fried pickles or something, too. Oh god, now that I’ve started thinking about food, I realize just how hungry I am. I don’t think I’ve had a proper meal in twenty-four hours, and I’m famished.

I roll up my windows and toss my crossbody purse over my head as I get out of my car. I flick the locks and bump the door closed with my hip. The gravel crunches under my boots as I head toward the little semicircle of food options.

I’m so focused on the food truck in the center that I don’t see it coming. I collide with something hard, the impact jarring. My purse swings wildly against me, and I stumble backward, blinking too fast and shaking my head a little.

Strong, warm hands circle my biceps, steadying me. “Careful now.”

“Shit—sorry.” My eyes widen as I look at the owner of such a deep voice.

He’s tall—easily over six feet—with broad shoulders that fill out a faded navy t-shirt like it’s his goddamn job. Tattoos swirl down both of his arms, drawing attention to his forearms. I don’t know what’s hotter: those veins popping in his forearms or his big hands. Dark blond hair sticks out from beneath a backward blue baseball cap, and when he grins, dimples crease his cheeks. My stomach does a little flip.

My lips part on an exhale, a breathless curse falling free. “Shit.”

He chuckles, his lips twisting to the side a little. The sound vibrates through me—lazy, deep and rich, like that organic maple syrup I bought when it was on sale last month. It drips onto my skin and sends an unfamiliar awareness down my spine.

“You good?” he murmurs, his thumbs sweeping over the sensitive skin of my inner biceps.

My lashes flutter too many times for it tonotbe noticeable, and my cheeks heat in response. I feel silly now. It’s not like I’ve never seen an attractive man before. I probably just need food or something.

I clear my throat and take a step back, and when his hands fall away, I feel like I can take a breath again. I nod and glance toward the right. “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t see you there.”

He grins, flashing those dimples at me again. “No worries, I wasn’t paying attention either.”

“Right, well . . .” I trail off and step to the side, ready to be done with this awkward exchange. Apparently, we’re on the same wavelength, because he moves to my left too. Then we both shift to the opposite side. Despite myself, a small laugh puffs out at the ridiculous sidewalk shuffle.

“You go,” I say, motioning him forward, running my hand through my hair and tossing it over to one side. My cheeks still feel warm, but I’m going to blame it on the lack of food and the hot streak we’re currently having.

“My mama would have my ear if I didn’t show some manners.” He steps back with a mock bow, sweeping his arm out wide. “Ladies first.”

Is his mom here? I give him a half-smile and shake my head, stealing a couple of glances around. “Thanks.”

I get into the line for the burger truck, and a moment later, I hear low whistling behind me. I don’t understand what this strange phenomenon is, but somehow I just know that the same man is now standing behind me. Close enough that his nearness prickles against my skin, but far enough away to be polite.

His presence is like an itch begging to be scratched, and I’m embarrassed that I cave after one measly minute.

I steal a glance over my shoulder—sure enough. Tall, tattooed, dimples. The heat of him radiates toward me, and I catch a hint of his scent on the warm breeze. Soft notes of leather and pine, with an undercurrent of something warm and masculine. It’s an intoxicating combination that makes my stomach flip again in a way that has nothing to do with hunger.

I fix my gaze straight ahead, studying the chalkboard menu as if it contains the secrets of the universe.

There’s a buzz of excitement in the air—families chatting, couples laughing, engines revving lightly in the background. The line moves slowly, but I still have plenty of time before the movie starts, so I’m not too stressed about it.

“Have you been here before?” he asks casually, like we didn’t just bump into each other two seconds ago.

I look behind me, catching the way his blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

“No,” I murmur, facing forward once more.

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