Page 63 of Blind Attraction

The door locks clicked in release and the heavy wood creaked open. The bright light from the hallway pierced his eyes, and he blinked to focus on who stood in front of him.

“Mitch?”

“Hey, Kate.” He wiped his palms on his black jeans to remove the sweat. “How are you?” He held no interest in the answer. His chest grew tighter with every passing second.

“Fine,” she scrutinized him.

“Can I speak to Alana?” He glanced behind her, hoping to catch a glimpse of long brown hair and light green eyes.

“Umm…no sorry…you can’t.” Her hesitant words triggered an alarm which sent his nerves into a panic.

“I-Is she out on a date?” He was fucking stuttering. The thought of her alone with another man made him nauseous. “I can come back tomorrow… Or wait around.” Yeah, he could wait around for the inevitable kiss at the front door. That would be awesome.

“No. She’s not here at all.” His stomach roiled. “She went back home.” And there went his balls, nose-diving into the porch floor.

“Why? I thought she wanted to start a new life? I-I thought she was happy here?”

Kate raised her eyebrows and for the first time he noticed the disapproval in her expression.

“Maybe if you called her, she would’ve told you about it.”

He deserved that. “Is she coming back?”

Her frown deepened and she crossed her arms over her chest, ramping up her breasts even though he tried not to notice. “Not my place to tell, and even if it was, I wouldn’t go out of my way to make getting in contact with her easier for you. You. Have. Her. Number.” She punctuated every word with a tilt of her head.

“Gotcha. You despise me and don’t want to see me back with her.” He shook his head in defeat and turned toward the porch stairs.

“Wait.” Her command lacked conviction and he contemplated not turning back at all. “I don’t hate you.”

He swiveled on his toes and gave a sorry smile. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Well, you did. Bad. And that shit isn’t fixed with a flash of your famous smile or by leaving a four-word blog comment.”

He winced. His regret had doubled every day that Alana hadn’t replied to his stupid message.

“What you need is some kneepads to grovel and expensive jewelry. Very expensive, Mitchell Davies.”

He chuckled and bowed his head in acceptance. “Duly noted... So does that mean you’ll give me her address?”

“Not on your life.”

* * *

Alana lay on her bed, staring at the flaking white paint on her ceiling. Exhaustion consumed her bones, every muscle ached, and her heart beat with a lazy melancholy. A knock at the door yanked her from the self pity, and she swiped a rough hand over the stray tear gliding down her cheek.

“Hi, Mom.”

Her mother gave a sad smile and strolled into the room. “Everything packed?”

Alana nodded. “Most of it, anyway.”

She hadn’t planned to come home. Her emotions were still raw from betrayal. Yet, as soon as she received the phone call saying her mom was in hospital, she rushed to catch the next flight back to Colorado. “How’s the arm?”

Her mom lifted the wrist covered in plaster and shrugged with a wince. “Not as sore as my chest.”

She had a broken ulna and three fractured ribs. All from falling backward while climbing out of the tractor. Alana had been skeptic about the accident at first. For over a week her mom had refused to talk to her about the information the Bowens had shared. She would neither confirm nor deny that her father had paid for the property they currently lived on, or that he’d sent money every fortnight until Alana turned eighteen.

She wouldn’t discuss the relationship she’d once had with Chris Bowen and refused to acknowledge his existence. Well, she refused until she had no choice but to answer from the restriction of her hospital bed.

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