Chapter 81 CHAPTER TWO
Chapter 81 CHAPTER TWO
HAVEN
What's worse than being hit by a car in the middle of nowhere?
Apparently, it’s staring down at the ruined birthday cake you spend over four hours making perfect.
The once-beautiful three-tiered lemon raspberry cake now lies in a sad, collapsed heap inside its crushed box. Frosting smears across the cardboard like evidence of a crime scene. I can already picture Nana’s face, the way her eyes crinkle with forced excitement before they dim with disappointment. She looks forward to my cakes every single year, and I don't want to fail her this year.
“Fuck!” I hiss, pushing myself up from the dusty roadside.
I turn my glare on the man responsible for both nearly killing me and destroying months of planning in under three seconds.
He is tall—unfairly tall—with a strongly built frame that makes the simple black shirt he wears look like it works overtime. Dark hair brushes past his shoulders, slightly tousled from the wind, and those golden-yellow eyes... they are striking. Tiny flecks of brown swim in them, like an infection slowly claiming territory. His lips press into a thin line as he observes me with the focused intensity of a buyer inspecting suspicious shipments.
He feels… different. Not weird-different. Familiar-different. Like muscle memory I cannot quite place. I shake the strange thought away and focus on the more pressing issue: my murdered cake.
“You should really watch where you’re going, young lady,” he says, his voice low and smooth, like velvet dragged over gravel.
The nerve.
I brush dirt and frosting off my sundress with sharp, angry swipes. “I should watch where I'm going?” I repeat, incredulous. “You drive like a drunk teenager with a death wish and you almost run me over. How exactly is this my fault?”
A ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, gone so fast I almost think I imagine it. Those golden eyes never leave my face.
“I believe I said I was sorry.”
“No,” I snap, “you said I should watch where I’m going. That’s not an apology, that’s guilt tripping.”
He tilts his head slightly, studying me like I am some curious puzzle he hasn’t expected to find on this empty stretch of road. “You have quite the mouth on you. Somethings never really change.”
“And you have quite the terrible driving skills. We all have our burdens to bear.” I don't dwell on his last statement that sounds crazy because he is as good as crazy itself.
He lets out a low chuckle that does strange things to my stomach. “Fair enough.” He takes one step closer, and the air between us seems to thicken. “I really am sorry about the cake. It looks… impressive. Before I destroy it, that is.”
I hug the ruined box tighter to my chest, the crushed edges digging into my arms. “It took me four hours. Four!”
Something shifts in his expression—regret, maybe? Or something softer that he quickly buries.
“I’ll pay for it,” he offers again. “Materials, your time, whatever it costs. Name your price.”
I scoff. “You can’t pay for time, mister. And you definitely can’t pay for the look on my grandmother’s face when I show up empty-handed on her birthday.”
He rubs the back of his neck, the first crack in that annoyingly calm composure. “Then let me drive you home. We can stop somewhere and get another cake. Or I’ll buy the ingredients and you can bake a new one while I… stay out of your way.”
I stare at him, deadpan. “You want me to get into a car with the man who just tried to turn me into the next road accident case? No, thank you.”
“I didn't try to hit you,” he says, a hint of frustration finally slipping through. “You step out rather suddenly.”
“Oh, so now we’re back to it being my fault?”
“I’m simply stating facts.”
“Facts according to the guy who speeds on a quiet country road like he’s qualifying for Formula One”
His lips twitch again. “You’re not going to let this go easily, are you?”
“Not when my grandmother’s birthday cake is currently a pancake because of you, no.”
He exhales through his nose, somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You’re difficult.”
“And you’re reckless. We’re even.”
For a moment, we just stand there on the side of the empty road, staring each other down. That strange pull is back—stronger now. Like gravity shifts and my body wants to lean toward him even as my brain screams to step away. His golden eyes darken slightly, as if he feels it too.
“What’s your name?” he asks suddenly, his voice softer than before.
I lift my chin. “Why? So you can file an insurance claim after you finish the job?”
Another quiet laugh escapes him. “No. So I know what to call the most stubborn woman I have met in a long time.”
I narrow my eyes. “Flattery isn’t going to fix my cake.”
“It isn’t flattery. It is an observation.”
“Keep observing from a distance then.”
He takes another small step forward, completely ignoring my warning. “Come on. Let me make this right. At least let me give you a ride. It’s getting late, and I don’t like the idea of you walking the rest of the way carrying that… tragedy.”
I glance down at the destroyed box in my arms. He has a point, as much as I hate admitting it. Nana starts worrying soon.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But if you drive like a maniac again, I’m jumping out. Moving vehicle or not.”
A slow, dangerous smile curves his lips, and for the first time, I notice how sharp his canines look.
And that is how I let the man who almost killed me drive me to my Nana's. The drive was peaceful and quiet and in no time we arrive at Nana's door. I clutch what's left of the cake and step down from the car.
“Thank you for the ride. I'm glad you didn't try to kill me again,” I joke with a soft smile.
“See you soon, Haven."
Before I can ask how he knew my name, he speeds off down the road, into the world. I turn to Nana's house and instantly get the feeling that something is terribly, terribly wrong.
I hasten my footsteps and get to the door. The
moment I push it open, I freeze in place.
“I've been waiting so long to see you, Haven."