Page 69 of Star-Crossed
Lyra laughed in spite of herself. “Cady has her own shop to watch.”
“Fawkes finally talked me into hiring help.” Cady shrugged. “And now I’m emotionally invested in this situation, so I’d better stick around to hear about what happens next.”
“Plan activated.” Gemma grinned, poking Lyra playfully in the ribs. “Now, go give Cy the business, and I’ll handle the rumor mill.”
“‘The business’ is referring to sex,” Lyra explained to her sister, who’d already abandoned her to help a customer.
Indulging in a massive, full-body aggravated groan, Lyra marched right back out the shop’s back door without even setting her coffee down.
As she drove through town, she couldn’t help but place all the odd looks and whispers that had followed her around lately. Now it made sense: the concerned faces at the bakery when she ordered a single slice of cake, the pharmacist offering her pamphlets on various support groups, and even Vee from Vee’s Lady Garden sidling up to her with offers of “marital aids” for when she felt ready to “get back in the saddle.”
“Ugh,” Lyra grunted. Her sister’s well-intentioned rumors had turned into a minefield of awkward conversations and unsolicited advice.
And now it seemed Cy was caught up in the whirlwind too.
Determined to clear the air, Lyra set off toward Townsend Manse, her pace augmented by annoyance as she navigated the tree-lined streets of Townsend Harbor. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. How could Cy have been so high-handed? And sending his employee to ask her out—who did he think he was?
She rolled up the tree-lined drive, parked at the edge of the castle-like grounds, and set off toward the garden. As she marched along, her irritation bubbled and simmered, and thoughts raced like a freight train.
She spotted him apart from a few other workmen, hacking diligently at an intricate and precise arborvitae. His muscular frame was hard to miss, even amongst the verdant foliage.
“Hey!” she shouted, hands curling into fists as she strode toward him. “We need to talk!”
Cy looked up, clearly startled by her sudden appearance. “Lyra?” he said, brushing dirt off his hands onto his jeans. “What are you doing here?”
“Cut the act, Cy,” she spat, face burning with anger. “Did you really send your hot employee to ask me out?”
“Hot?” he said, taken aback by her fury. “You mean Jack?”
“I sure as shit mean Jack!” Lyra snapped, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You pull some passive-aggressive bullshit like that instead of talking to me like a grownup?”
Cy’s face fell, and a glint of shame was quickly covered by his own ire. “I’m at work right now, Lyra,” he said, squeezing at a knot of stress in the back of his neck that was probably named after her. “Can we talk about this at a more appropriate—”
“We can talk about this right the fucknow,” she huffed, “and you can try using your words—orbetter yet, your brain.”
Cy crossed his arms defensively. “I was trying to do what you wanted, Lyra. You wanted space. You wanted other men. He expressed interest, and I wasn’t trying to be a possessive asshole, so…” He made a helpless gesture. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. Not throw the first available dick in my direction,” she said, feeling her pulse pounding beneath what felt like very thin skin.
He ground his teeth together, visibly struggling to keep his cool. “If what happened between us is so goddamned casual, then why are you so pissed off?”
“I’m pissed because—” Lyra stopped as every word she ever learned abandoned her. “I just thought that—” That what? That he’d call? That he’d grovel?
That he’d care, even when she’d asked him not to?
“What Iwantis—”
But before she could finish her sentence, the sudden blaring of sirens cut through the tension. Both Lyra and Cy turned their heads toward the noise, and their jaws dropped in unison as they watched a chaotic parade of trucks, fire engines, and ambulances pour through the tree tunnel that arched over the Townsend Manse driveway.
FOURTEEN
Raising
SELECTIVE PRUNING TO PROVIDE VERTICAL CLEARANCE; ALSO KNOWN AS LIFTING.
All these years later,and the sound of sirens still sent ice skidding through Cy’s veins.
His breath hitched, and his heart gave a single, painful lurch before settling into a hectic hum that made the world around him go weirdly quiet as a different one assembled itself.
