Page 38 of Shattered Hearts
My sister must keep herself busy by showing off her legs because I count less than five pairs of pants. Plan B is to go straight for the dresses since they’re one piece and easier to get on and off, but one glance at that section changes my mind. My options are short, skimpy, and couture, or long, skin-tight, and revealing.
I turn back and head for the skirt rack next.
Once I’ve filled the bag to the brim, I peel off the clothes I wore this afternoon. After shimmying into an ensemble Harper left hanging on the bathroom door, I prepare myself for more foot torture and grab the least offensive pair of shoes off Harper’s shelf.
The comedy routine that follows, known as me trying to walk down four flights of stairs with a Gucci tote bag that weighs thesame as a middle schooler, still isn’t over by the time I hobble into the garage a few minutes later.
Like a shadow, Finn lurks in the corner by a black Audi, that perpetual scowl on his face. Running into the man in a semi-lit garage is something one would want to avoidfor their own safety. Myself included.
Instead, I school the pain on my face into something I hope resembles neutral discomfort and shuffle toward him, the pain receptors in my feet screaming with each step. I try to act casual as I adjust the leather, knee-length pencil skirt squeezing my lower half.
The click of the five-inch fuck-me heels on the smooth cement floor of the garage must’ve summoned Finn’s attention. I feel the weight of his gaze on me before I even glance up.
Finn doesn’t say anything, but the intensity of his stare makes my heart stutter and my feet stop walking. Why does my body forget how to function the minute I see him?
My lips part, but no sound comes out. His dark eyes seem black from all the way over here.
My neck warms when he tracks the length of my body. I resist the urge to fidget and hide myself. Finn’s attention is like a microwave, heating me up, spinning me around.
His lips quirk, as if he’s fighting off a smile. I brace for the sting in his words. That’s all I do around him. Brace for it.
He takes a step toward me. “You walked through the house like that?”
I’m cool, I swear I am…until those words leave his mouth.
Is this petty bastard criticizing my inability to walk in heels?
I resume my hobbling, faster than before. “How about the next time someone leaves you at the altar, I impersonateyou, andyoucan be the one who comes down the aisle in the Jimmy Choos.”
My foot goes sideways over a piece of gravel someone tracked in here, and my balance flies out the window.
I go down gasping before a fist as hard as stone clamps around my upper arm and hauls me toward the Audi. My back hits the passenger door as Finn boxes me in against the sports car.
His hands are fixed to the roof, arms extended on either side of my body, exasperation on his face.
All of my annoyance dissolves into ash, electricity zapping me from end to end. I must be some kind of a whore for thinking about kissing him right now.
Finn’s face floats above mine, his cruel mouth only a few inches from mine. I blink.
“What?” His rough voice is almost a croon.
A quake starts in my belly and spreads south.
“More silence, huh?” One of his eyebrows lifts. “Nothing smart to say?”
“Is it too late for me to take a cab?” The words come out breathy, and I want to kick myself for letting him affect me the way he does.
A muscle pulses in his thick neck as frustration flares in his eyes. His right hand drops to the passenger door handle by my hip and rips it open like he’s mad at it. My body brushes his, setting every nerve ending on fire.
“Shut up and get in.” He steps back and gives me space.
Seconds tick by as we stare at each other in silence.
Swallowing back my argument, I lower myself inside without a fight. To my surprise, Finn doesn’t slam the door behind me. He closes it with all the grace of a true gentleman and then stalks around to the driver’s side and gets in.
I hold my breath as he starts the car and pulls out of the space.
Being around Finn just gets more and more confusing. The strangest part is that so far, the most stressful segment of my theatrical debut as his bride isn’t the actual impersonation itself. What happensaftera morning spent pretending is what drains me the most.