Page 12 of The Romance Game

Changing course, I shift my gaze to his.

Wrong move.

The flutters come in a rush, bouncing into each other, and not sure whereto go.

Our eyes make contact and hold, clustered together like a pair of neutrons and protons. It’s a strong force. One that cannot be broken by ordinary means. No, it’s more like the only thing that could break us apart is a miracle of fission.

Why am I so bad at this all of a sudden?

I used to be the queen of sassy, bratty, and mean. I could combat Ryan McGregor like nobody’s business, but I feel like a time bomb with the red wire cut. The countdown still runs, but then what?

His fingers graze my skin. I want to lean into his touch, but the stinging of my arm seizes my better sensibilities and I swat his hand away.

“What happened? Looks like a bite of some kind.”

“You.”

“Me? I didn’t bite you.” He stops short of laughing.

Seconds away from stomping my foot, I say, “I’m here on a silent retreat.”

“But you’re talking.”

“I was just trying to lie low and then there was a bee in my car and?—”

“Why didn’t you get out?”

“Because you were out there.”

His lips quirk. “Ah, and you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Yes.” I probably shouldn’t have offered up that information because it’ll only lead to more questions.

“So, you were avoiding me at the wedding.”

“No.” I press my palms over my face. This man muddles me up. I am not usually like this. Must be the bee venom.

“Come on. You need ice.”

Ryan’s strong, calloused hand wraps around my un-stung arm, and he practically frog-marches me across the street.

It’s bad enough that I have to deal with the saunter and the swagger. Now he’s touching me too.

Would I rather run into anyone other than the guy I love to hate?

Yes, actually. I’d rather be, well, I’m not sure where.

Instead, I blurt, “I’m dead. This is my ghost talking and I’m fine. My arm is fine.”

“Nugget, it’s swollen to the size of a baseball.”

I glance down and frown—at it and my inside-out shirt. “Half a baseball, like if you cut one in half.”

“You knew what I meant.”

We enter a new establishment here on Main Street. It’s called Beans & Books and must’ve opened sometime between now and when I was last in town. A cat suns itself on the windowsill.

A tall woman with dark hair stands behind the counter. “Hi, Ryan. What did you do?”

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