Page 17 of Bookworm

I was never truly attracted to David, but I thought his sense of humor made up for it. Now, everything he says is like nails on a chalkboard, and the humor I once thought was hilarious, grates on my every nerve. How could I laugh with him after all the hurt he’s put me through?

I glance back at the pond and stand from the bench, making my way up the gravel ravine toward my car, parked on the west end of the lot. I should’ve parked closer. The last thing I want is a confrontation with him. I have what my best friend Kate calls co-dependency. Apparently, that means I rely on others too much. And David is the one I’ve relied on the most. I’d probably need years of therapy to debunk all the lifelong trauma that put me in that place, but I don’t have time for that. I need to be strong right now.

“You’re running from me again, Pen. We need to talk.”

Talk.I laugh to myself at the concept. I tried‘talking’to the man for months and he dismissed every thought I had with defense and criticism.

I keep walking.

“Seriously?” His voice gets louder, like he’s jogging toward me. “You owe me a few minutes, at least.”

I have so many things I could say to that, but I’ve read enough about co-dependency to know that turning around will only make things worse.

I’ll state my case, he’ll state his, and none of it will lead to the happily ever after I need to get high.

I pull my keys from the pocket of my jacket and press the fob to unlock the door, but his fingers grip the back of my wrist and pull me back.

“Come on, Pen. Talk to me.”

If he didn’t have a history of violence, I wouldn’t overthink the touch. I’ve grabbed Kate’s arm a hundred times and pulled her back from lots of things.Another shot of whiskey, a date that didn’t feel right, a mustard-colored dress that would undoubtedly invite ants.

But when David looks at me, I know this touch is different. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are narrowed, and the flex of his fingers around my arm tighten.

“You owe this to me, Penelope.”

I know it’s not advantageous for me to laugh, but I can’t help myself. The thought of me‘owing’anything to a man that cornered me in a hallway last week to remind me how I ruined his life for the thousandth time is just funny, I guess.

“I don’t think so.” I chuckle and flinch from his grip, walking the last two feet to my car, but he grabs me again. This time, harder.

“It’s your fault this shit is happening in the first place.Youdid this to us.” There’s darkness in his tone. Malice.

I don’t answer. Answering only gets me in trouble. I’m proud of myself for staying, but he proves me wrong every time.

Turns out, silence gets me in trouble, too. He backs me up against the car door, his lanky frame hovering over me as his jaw tightens, and his teeth bare. I read about this in romance novels too, but it was never like this. Never with hate.

“Give me the keys,” he grunts. “Now!”

“Penelope?” a deep voice interrupts from a distance. I’ve heard the tone before, but I can’t place the man's face until David steps away and the man comes into frame.

Humiliation washes over me like a red-hot fever. It’s my dad’s best friend, Waylon. If I had to guess, the man is in his late forties, but he’s ungodly attractive. I say‘but’because I’m way too young to be ogling a man in his forties. Though, this guy is six foot six, covered in tattoos, wears a cowboy hat, and talks in a baritone that makes my pussy rumble.

“Hey.” I wave toward him as though David wasn’t just hunched over me threatening to take away my choice.

“Everything okay here? It looked pretty heated from where I was standing.” Waylon glances toward David, then back at me, his gaze turned down as though he already knew what was going on. Of course, he does. He’s not stupid. He runs one of the biggest ranches in Rugged Mountain. He employs nearly half the people in town between the ranch and his rodeo. You don’t get to be that man without knowing how to read people.

“I’m fine,” I lie, my hands still shaking. “David was just leaving.”

Waylon looks toward David and his shoulders widen.

“We’ll finish this later, Pen.” David runs off to his truck like a scared little puppy with this tail between his legs.

We really do live in the animal kingdom, don’t we?

I suck in a deep breath and twist back toward Waylon, my face still burning. “Wow. That was… embarrassing.”

He shakes his head and steps toward me, his large hand landing on my arm like a giant blanket of warmth. I try not to find comfort in it, but I do.

“Who’s that guy?”