Page 33 of The Arrogant's Redemption

We reach the ice cream shop, and it takes about ten minutes to place our orders. I don’t press her to keep talking while we wait because I can tell she doesn’t want others to overhear. I also try not to react when she picks bubblegum ice cream, while I go for a classic dark chocolate.

“You can say what you’re thinking,” she says, smiling.

“The flavor you picked is . . .”

“Disgusting?” She laughs.

“I was trying to be polite, but yes.”

“It’s delicious,” she says and takes a huge lick of her brightly colored ice cream.

We’re back on the sidewalk, and for several seconds, I forget all about our earlier agreement and the fact that I’m supposed to keep my distance. I want to pull her in by the back of the neck and taste her mouth, which now glistens with the weird dessert.

As if sensing the shift in atmosphere, Alexis steps back. That should be a warning sign for me. She’s not trying to seduce me. She’s just a girl. But instead of cooling me off, her action only sharpens my hunger for the chase.

“What did you mean by saying you were weird?” I ask, forcing myself to return to the conversation. The more I learn about her, the more I realize I underestimated her—and the effect she has on me.

Alexis is a delicious little puzzle.

Young, innocent in many ways, but anything but simple or ordinary. She seems to trust me, and since I never seek relationships with women beyond the physical, this unexpected closeness should make me walk away. But it doesn’t.

“I’m not exactly the life of the party, in case you hadn’t noticed. Even without knowing my story, I’ve always been a quiet child. When I was about seven—just before my mom gotme back—a social worker told me what she knew about my past. That my mother had given me up because she wasn’t doing well mentally or physically after the accident. I was too young to understand the full meaning of it, but I still got it into my head that once she was healed, she’d come back. And one day . . . it finally happened.”

Alexis

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I bitethe inside of my cheek to stop myself from continuing to bare my soul to him. I don’t mention that no matter where I was sent, or how much my foster families tried to make me feel at home in the first few days, I always felt emotionally detached from all those strangers—even before I knew my story.

That feeling only got worse once I found out my mom had been hurt. That’s when the praying started. From that moment on, I became even more closed off from everyone around me, because I didn’t wantanothermother. I wantedmine.

"You tend to forget to eat," I say, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

He seems to take a few seconds to analyze me, like he knows I’m dodging questions about the past. For one panicked moment, I think he’s going to push, and if he does, I know I won’t be able to stop myself from answering. There’s something about him that makes me want to be known, truly known, which I can only describe as temporary insanity on my part. After tonight, there’s a good chance we’ll never see each other again.

To my relief, he starts walking again, and I follow.

"It’s good," he says simply.

"It’s not justgood. This is the best ice cream in the world." I slip off my sandals and walk down into the sand.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

"This is my celebration, sir. You’re merely the guest. Follow me or retreat," I say, laughing as I walk backward toward the water, eyes locked on him.

My foolish heart pounds so hard in my chest I start to feel short of breath. It’s something I should probably get checked out, since I’ve been getting tired more easily lately, but right now we don’t have money for health insurance. Nothing is more important than the lawyers' fees.

Besides, I chalk the racing heart up to the fact that Jasper is now walking toward me, his face serious, the ice cream in his hand completely forgotten.

He looks like a hunter stalking prey, and once again, that dreamlike sense of unreality hits me full-force.

I try to recall the warning he gave me: "We can’t get involved, Alexis. Like I said before, I’d only end up hurting you."

But all I can think is that he saw me. Of all the women he could have been with tonight, he chose to be with me.

I don’t know anything about him, but I know enough about the kind of men who visit Cape Cod to understand he’s not just another guy, and I’m not talking about the fact that he’s obviously wealthy—every cell in his body radiates power and confidence.

He’s not the type to chase simple, inexperienced girls for fun. I must have really caught his attention, and no matter how much I try to tamp down the euphoria, I can’t. It feels like some kind of drug. I feel high—every primitive instinct buzzing at the surface.

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