Page 46 of Heartbreaker

“Jade!” I hear him call my name, but I can’t stop moving until I’m as far away from him as possible.

Until I can breathe again.

Being in the same room as Royal Ewing is suffocating. He’s the kind of guy who can hurt me.

And I plan to avoid that at all costs.

Even if the cost is my heart.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Royal

I give her space.

I know I owe her at least that much, considering how close I came to kissing her.

Except, I promised no hanky-panky.

My lips twitch because her whole no saying naughty words thing is cute as hell, but just as quickly, my smile fades.

Because I promised no sex.

And it took me all of a couple of hours to almost break that promise.

Fucking asshole.

That’s me, in case it wasn’t obvious.

Groaning, I shove the last of the food into the fridge then study the menu on the counter, wondering how in the hell I’m going to pull off dinner.

It’s simple cuisine—because I don’t have the patience for pretentious bullshit—but it’s also completely out of my wheelhouse.

I don’t cook. Unless boxed pasta and jarred sauce and some of those breadsticks that come in a can count. And, in this case,they don’t. There’s fresh tomatoes and mozzarella, a container of homemade pasta that needs to be cooked.

But no cans or jars in sight.

And apparently, we no longer have a chef coming in.

He dropped off the bags of food while I was giving Jade “space” and told me that the storm will prevent him from driving out to cook for us.

Speaking of which, it’s getting dark, the stormfront drawing close.

I need to go and find her.

I snag my jacket from the hooks by the front door, shove my feet into my boots, and hope to hell that she isn’t going to prove my earlier thought about it being nearly impossible to get lost on the resort wrong.

There’s one path that leads off from the cabin, and I follow it, searching for any sign of her, and heart sinking when I don’t find anything for several long minutes.

But then I round a gentle corner and see footprints in a patch of snow.

Fresh prints.

Made by small feet.

Thank fuck.

I pick up my pace, listening intently, gaze searching, but it takes another five minutes for me to spot the blond of her hair amongst the trees.

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