Page 4 of Reckless Harmony

“Is there a reason you’re trespassing on my property at ten fifty-seven at night?” He checked the watch adorning his wrist, which definitely cost more than Rayna’s car.

“There’s a cat in the tree,” she said.

He bent and picked up the flashlight she left at the bottom of the tree, flicking it on before shining it up into the tree.

“Is it your cat?” he asked as Molly made her ‘Hello, new friend’ meow.

“No, it’s the Pope’s,” she said.

His jaw tightened, a muscle tick tick ticking before he shined the flashlight on her, examining how she’d been snagged so thoroughly by the branch before sighing loudly. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

“Do you think you could just call the sheriff to report me for trespassing rather than lecturing me? I’d like to get the fuck out of this tree sometime in the next century,” she said.

With another harsh sigh, he shut off the flashlight and left it beside the cat treat container before trudging back toward the house. Rayna could no longer feel her feet, and fuck, did her back hurt, but she would rather freeze to death or bleed out before pleading with that asshole Stark to help her. Nope, she would dangle like a fly in a spider’s web with patience and dignity while she waited for the police to arrive and get her ass out of this fucking tree.

Her entire body was trembling from the cold, and her exposed stomach was covered with goosebumps. She stared up into the tree, squinting to see Molly, who looked like she might have moved down a few branches.

“You little jerk,” Rayna said. “You better come down from there yourself. Otherwise, you’ll be living in that tree permanently. Do you hear me? I am never climbing this tree again, so -”

The squeak of the back door had her whipping her head back toward the house, groaning at the bright shard of pain it sent through her back. To her utter shock, Stark, carrying a kitchen chair, was headed back toward her.

She watched silently as he set the chair on the ground below her and hopped up on it. His face was about waist level with her, and her stomach erupted with even more goosebumps when she felt his breath on her skin.

If her nipples weren’t already hard as glass from the frigid temperatures, they sure as shit would be diamonds right now. All because of a man’s breath on her stomach. Even worse, the breath of a guy she hated even more than her childhood bully, Phoebe, and she loathed that stuck-up snot of a witch.

“What are you doing?” she snapped when he put his hands on her hips.

“Helping you out of the tree?” He raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow at her. “Please tell me you’re not so stubborn that you’ll insist you don’t need my help.”

“You can’t lift me off the branch,” she said. “I don’t care how strong you think you are.”

“I’m not lifting you,” he said, his tone suggesting she was as dumb as a piece of toast. “Wrap your legs around my body and raise your arms. With a bit of luck and some pulling on my part, we should be able to slide you out of your sweatshirt.”

“No,” she said immediately. “We’re not doing that.”

“Do you have a better idea?” he asked.

God, she wished he’d let go of her hips. His touch, combined with how fucking cold she was and the pain in her back, made it nearly impossible to think clearly.

He gave her an impatient shake that sent agony racing up her back. “Ms. Abrams? Give me another suggestion then.”

The whimper of pain escaped her lips before she could stop it, and his hands tightened on her hips. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Look, I’m not wearing anything under the sweatshirt, okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

“I’m not wearing a bra,” she clarified. “The ladies are swinging wild and free tonight.”

“How delightful for you,” he said dryly. “I’ve seen breasts before, Ms. Abrams.”

“I don’t want you seeing my breasts,” she said.

“That makes two of us,” Stark said, “but if you want out of this tree, neither of us are getting what we want.”

Okay, so she was not hurt by Stark’s disinterest in her tits. Not one tiny bit.

His hands still on her hips, he said, “Do you want my help or not, Ms. Abrams?”

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