Page 3 of Reckless Harmony

Like everything else on her property, the fence had seen better days, and she hoped like hell the wooden planks wouldn’t simply disintegrate as she grabbed the top and boosted herself up. The fence creaked alarmingly but held her weight as she hauled herself over the top of it and dropped with a gentle thud to the other side.

She picked up the flashlight and treats and brushed off the snow from her yoga pants as she stared furtively at the house. The blinds were all drawn, but muted light shone out from behind them. The asshole was home, and she had no doubt he’d call the cops on her for trespassing if he caught her in his backyard.

She stood at the tree's base, softly calling Molly’s name and shaking the treat container. The cat meowed and paced on the branch but made no effort to climb down.

“Fuck,” she muttered. With another look at the house, she shut off the flashlight and set it and the treat container beside the tree. She snagged one of the hair bands from her wrist and used it to tuck her hair into a messy bun on top of her head as she studied the tree. The moonlight reflecting off the snow made it plenty bright enough to climb the tree, and she grabbed one of the lower branches and, grunting loudly, boosted herself up. She climbed carefully from branch to branch, the cold bark turning her fingers numb almost immediately.

“You are the worst, Molly,” she called as she inched closer to the calico. “I can’t believe you’d even put your unborn children in danger like this. You have a warm bed, a clean litter box, food, and friends at my house, and you pull this happy horseshit? You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Molly meowed at her, and Rayna studied the branches above her. They were getting thinner, and she needed to be very careful to choose ones that would hold her weight. She glanced down, her stomach churning at how high up she was. She wasn’t afraid of heights, but she didn’t fancy falling from a tree and breaking her leg… or her neck.

She held her hand out toward Molly. “C’mon, sweetheart. Jump down a couple of branches. What do you say? Just a couple, sweetie.”

Molly stood, and Rayna watched in disbelief as she jumped to the branch above her.

“What the fuck, Molly?” she snapped. “Are you being a dick on purpose tonight?”

Molly meowed plaintively, rubbing her face against the tree trunk before peering at Rayna.

With another sigh, Rayna boosted herself up onto the branch above her. It was thinner than she liked, but it felt sturdy enough and -

The crack of the branch as it broke and the immediate sickening drop as she plunged toward the ground was enough to bring a truly epic horror movie girl scream from her throat.

She was going to die. She was going to die in Isaac fucking Stark’s backyard, and her only solace in that knowledge was that he’d never get all of her splattered brains hosed out of his goddamn backyard.

She let out a strangled yelp as a fire burned across her back, and she was pulled up short, her sweatshirt snagging around her neck and rucking halfway up her stomach.

She dangled and swayed, her feet nowhere close to the ground, and for some reason, she could feel the bite of a cold, hard branch against her back. Craning her neck, she stared at the thick branch that had somehow slid under the bottom of her sweatshirt as she fell and now poked out from the neckline of her sweater and pressed against the back of her head. She’d been hooked as neatly as a fish.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed as she twisted and swayed midair. “It’s a friggin’ miracle.”

It really was a miracle, and while she was incredibly grateful not to have her skull smashed open like an overripe pumpkin in her enemy’s backyard, she was still in a bit of a pickle.

Actually - she stared down at the ground below her swaying feet - it was a significant pickle.

She was still at least eight feet from the ground, maybe more, and her back hurt like a motherfucker and based on the liquid dripping down her back, it was entirely possible the branch had scraped off a layer of skin right to the damn bone.

Also, she had no fucking idea how she would get down. If she lifted her arms and wriggled, she could probably slither right out of her sweatshirt, but did she want to fall eight feet? Nope, she fucking didn’t. That was still break your neck height.

The light above the back door of Mr. Dickhead Millionaire’s house flicked on, and she groaned loudly, tempted to just wiggle out of her sweatshirt and risk broken limbs.

Instead, she continued to dangle limply as Isaac Stark, his feet shoved into boots and his stupid perfect body clad in sweatpants and a thick hoodie, walked out of his house.

CHAPTER 3

Rayna’s hope that maybe Stark wouldn’t notice her dangling from his tree like the world’s worst Christmas ornament died a quick death when his gaze zeroed in on her immediately. It was too dark to tell, but she had no doubt his much too pretty blue eyes were full of annoyance.

She half expected him to turn around and go back into the house. Call the police on her for trespassing and leave her to dangle while he waited for Sheriff Walker to show up. Christ, she hoped it wasn’t the sheriff. She’d recently become friends with his fiancée, Grace, and she really didn’t want Grace to know about this.

To her surprise, Stark walked toward her, wading through the thick, untouched snow of his backyard until he stood wordlessly beneath her dangling body.

The moonlight highlighted his narrow nose and high cheekbones and illuminated the short beard that covered his jaw. Huh, that was new. The last time she’d seen him, he’d only had stubble.

Oh, Jesus, she was not suddenly picturing what that beard might feel like against her inner thigh. Nope, she was not because, one, Stark was her mortal enemy, and two, she was dangling from a goddamn tree.

He studied her, the seconds quietly ticking away before he said. “Ms. Abrams.”

“Stark,” she said.

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