Page 66 of Forbidden Vows

He glances over at me. “Could you ever see a future with us?”

Danger. Danger. Warning flashes go off.

Of course I’ve had glimpses of our future in my overactive imagination! But that’s playtime. Like when I pretended he was my big brother, or this staycation where we’ve been playing house. It’s fun. It makes you feel good.

But it's not real.

Our return to New York is quickly approaching. I need to redirect him. Now.

“Of course it’s fun to dream. You’re gorgeous and thoughtful. What girl wouldn’t want to be with you?” Easing into my response, I start with the basics. “But we’re not compatible. You’re rich, handsome, and dangerously sexy, with a history sheet of lovers longer than my legs.”

“You are pretty short,” he jokes, not understanding what I’m getting at. Or, not wanting the conversation to turn the direction I’m taking it.

“Right.” I nod. “Like a hobbit.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head.

I don’t want to explain to him that I’m a dorky little hobbit who doesn’t even have her hobbit hole yet still holds out for her white picket fence dream of a happily ever after.

His polar opposite.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, staring at me under the moonlight. “Don’t let me catch you saying anything less than the truth. You’re beautiful.”

Ignoring the happy twinkle from his compliment, I focus on the topic at hand. “I’m boring. A homebody. I’m a teacher, and I will be forever. I like the repetition of the seasons, the predictability of my life. I like…safe. I need a partner to meet me where I am.”

He leans back, resting against the cushion, and stares at the ocean for a while before saying, “A safe bet.”

“Right.” He gets it. I glance around at the beauty that surrounds us. Danger. Excitement. Wealth.

Each day a new adventure.

Suddenly, he spits a name out with venom. “Nathan.”

I have no idea who Nathan is, but Blaze clearly hates him. ShouldI even ask?An uncomfortable moment passes, him fuming, me wondering. Okay, let’s be honest, I’m too nosynotto ask. “Whois Nathan?”

He gives a heavy sigh. “The accountant you’re going to marry.”

“Since when have I been engaged to an accountant?”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head sadly. “You're Cleopatra. You’re a queen.”

“Queen?” I snort. “Yeah, right.” Queen of the hobbits, maybe.

The night grows quiet, and I get lost in thought, picturing myself wearing a tiny gold laurel leaf crown on my head and leading a line of furry-footed beings around the Shire.

Finally, he says, “You’re just so—good.”

“I know.” A vanilla bean goody-goody rule-following hobbit. “That’s my point. I’m not a flashy mafioso wife.”

“A good person. So pure. So kind.” I wait before replying, wondering where he’s going with this conversation. “I’m a bad guy with a history. I’m a member of an organized crime family.” He looks down at his hand. “I don’t want to corrupt you. You’re right. It’s not a good fit.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked by how much it hurts to hear him say we’re not a good fit.

This makes no sense. I’m so confused. I’m the one who laid down the only and most important rule; this ends.

My heart craves him, but my head says don’t get hurt again.

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