Page 26 of See It Through

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Page 26 of See It Through

Like he’d heard my pleas, the other truck swerved into the left lane and pulled up beside me, giving his horn a jaunty beep. I slid my eyes his way. We were right next to each other.

Cleve Jones.

There was no mistaking the jackass laughing his head off as he finger-gunned me. The man had to be in his forties but behaved like a stupid teenager.

My pulse firing out of control, I flipped him off and mouthed, “Loser,” as clearly as I could so he’d know exactly what I thought of him.

He threw his head back in laughter and slammed his foot on the gas, speeding off down the road. I slowed down, letting him disappear ahead of me.

It took me the rest of the ride to calm down. For a minute or two, I truly believed I’d been in trouble. The darkest part of my mind had even considered I might’ve died out there. And for what? To amuse Cleve—a gray-haired, snaggle-toothed, second-rate farrier who had it out for me because several of his clients jumped off his shoddy ship to climb aboard mine?

If I told my brothers or my father about this incident, they’d be out for blood. There was no way they wouldn’t be. And as much as I’d like to see Cleve taken down a few pegs, I didn’t want any of my family members to wind up in jail. I could take care of myself. If Cleve did anything like this again, I’d contact the police. I doubted it would come to that, though. Cleve had his fun, and now he’d move on.

The asshole.

By the time I parked my truck outside Sugar Rush, I thought I’d gotten ahold of myself, but as soon as my feet hit the pavement, my knees wobbled, and I had to clutch the door to keep from falling.

“Crap,” I muttered, bringing my shaking hand to my face. “Stupid Cleve. I’m not letting that man get to me.”

Slamming my door, I crossed the sidewalk, my focus solely on the entry to the bakery. As I approached, I reached for the handle, but it was pulled open before I could get to it.

Without looking up, I yanked my hand back and blurted, “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“That’s all right, Hannah. You can go ahead in.”

Startled, my gaze whipped up at the low, gentle voice, landing on a pair of lively hazel eyes. In the face of Remington Town being a gentleman, I normally would have come up with something snappish, but I wasn’t my best self at the moment.

I attempted to brush by him, but of course my knees betrayed me once again, giving out as my shoulder grazed his chest. He caught me before I could go down, his grip warm and firm on my elbow.

“Careful,” he murmured, far too close to my ear. “Steady now.”

I would have yanked myself free, but the truth was, I needed the support, at least for a second or two. Fortunately, my pride was more powerful than my fear. I carefully extracted myself from Remi, willing my legs to stand on their own.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

My gaze darted around the shop. For once, it wasn’t busy, with only a few people scattered around, sipping coffee and eating sweets. Phoebe was chatting with Camille behind the glass display case, and suddenly, I knew exactly what I wanted.

I felt Remi’s eyes on me as I beelined toward my sister. I did not stop at the counter. Rounding it, I walked right into her, wrapping my arms around her. Luckily, she didn’t have anything in her hands and was able to return my embrace.

She laughed softly. “What’s this all about, Banana?”

“I missed you.” That wasn’t a lie. Phoebe smelled like sugar and everything good and sweet. Her hugs were always warm and fierce, and this one was no exception.

“I saw you this morning. What’s up with you?”

I sighed, letting my head fall on her shoulder. “I got spooked on my way home. Cleve thought it was funny to pretend like he was going to drive me off the road. There for a minute, I thought he was actually going to do it.”

She pulled back, holding my arms. “What do you mean? Cleve Jones?”

Damn. I shouldn’t have said anything. I hadn’t intended to, but the warmth of Phoebe’s hug had loosened my lips. Now, she was worried, and I didn’t want to lay that on her.

“It was his version of a prank…I think. You know he thinks he’s funnier than he is.”

Her brow crinkled. “This doesn’t sound like a prank. What he did was dangerous.”

“Who’s Cleve Jones?” Remi asked with an edge I didn’t recognize.




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