Page 28 of Twist of Fate
“That and Clint’s driving skills on the left side of the road are abysmal.”
Everyone laughs.
“At least I tried, assholes.” He shakes his head, amusement painting his face. “But, it does have its perks.”
His eyes meet mine and hold.
“It—”
“Time to head back to the bus.”
I jump as Finn strides past us, his voice so sharp, it feels more like a drill sergeant barking orders than a tour guide gathering guests.
“I guess it’s time to go.” Clint raises an eyebrow in Finn’s direction before turning back to me. He stands up and offers me his hand, which I take, placing my hand in his.
His grin is a mile wide as I stand, but it falters when I pull my hand back to walk beside him. We head back to the bus, right behind Finn, who appears to have delivered his message in a much more polite manner to everyone else. Go figure.
I spot my mom and wave, her face lighting up when she sees me next to Clint. As we approach the bus, Clint asks, “Hey, do you want to sit with us? We have an empty seat between us and the couple from Minnesota.”
Finn stiffens in front of me, coming to an abrupt halt as Collin, the bus driver, slides open the doors.
I should say no.
I shouldn’t give Clint false hope, but when I open my mouth, I say the exact opposite.
“Sure, I’d love that.”
NINE
Finn
PAST
If I have to hear her laugh one more time…
It isn’t that I hated the sound of it.
Quite the opposite, actually.
It’s the fact thatheis the one making her laugh. Repeatedly. While she sits next to him. On my fucking bus.
To make matters worse, I actually liked the lad at first.
After he asked about football during the city tour, I walked around the cathedral with him and his mates, chatting about their favorite leagues and teams. They even knew a thing or two about rugby, having traveled around Europe quite a bit.
They seemed like decent lads—ones I wouldn’t mind sharing a pint or two in the pub with.
But then they spotted Aisling sitting on the lawn outside the cathedral, and I decided they all needed to die.Him, especially.
I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t find the sight of Aisling eating that ice cream cone fucking sexy as hell. I would probably have dreams about the way her tongue slid over that creamy treat for the rest of my life, but I at least had the common decency to keep those pornographic thoughts to myself.
These fucking arseholes? They stood there, practically drooling all over themselves, while she sat there none the wiser, as they argued over who got “dibs.”
Fucking dibs?
I sat there, listening to their conversation, practically seething. If it weren’t for the fact that I actually needed this job, I would have been up off this bench so fast. I hadn’t had a good fight since my rugby days at university; it had served as a solid outlet. Without it, I sometimes felt like a caged lion.
My knuckles whitened as they continued to hash it out. One guy pointed out that he hadn’t had pussy in “forever” and deserved it. Another pointed out that he used that excuse all the time.
