Page 13 of Theirs to Treasure
With a frown, I ask, “Who?”
“The man you were supposed to marry.”
This close, hardly a breath separating us, he is completely overwhelming.
Everything I’d noticed in that flash of time was accurate. But I hadn’t been prepared for the way I feel branded by his spicy, earthy scent.
As I breathe him in, he fills my senses.
“If you were mine…”
Oh my God. Is he crazy? “How do you know it was him?”
Never breaking the contact of our gazes, the man sets my glass down.
“You appear as if you’re fully ready to walk down the aisle. One option is that he got cold feet, which would make him a coward.” He lifts a single shoulder in a casual shrug. “If that’s the case, he’s not a man you should spend your life with.”
“You have an active imagination.”
Disregarding my observation, he goes on. “My second—and most likely guess—is that he fucked up in some terrible way. Which makes him unbelievably stupid.”
That, I can’t argue with.
“In either case, it’s better to find out now than in the future.” He states this plainly, as if it’s a face, and he leaves no room for argument. “I stand behind my statement. Whomever your groom was, he was too stupid to deserve you.”
“Thank you for that.” Words from a man I don’t know shouldn’t help. But they do.
“Someday you’ll look back on this and be glad you didn’t tie the knot.”
Spending a lifetime with a liar and a cheat would have been an awful fate. Still, I’m aware of the way I’ve let my family down.
Tipping my head, I regard him. “Do you make a habit of intruding on other people’s business? Or am I just unfortunate?”
Rather than taking offense and walking away, he winces but remains where he is. “As a habit, no. But when a lady has a problem she’d like to solve…”
How much did you overhear?
The gloriously handsome man sweeps his hot gaze down my body.
“One that I can solve for you, it’s only fitting that I offer my services.”
Have I heard him correctly? He wants to pluck my V-card?
Momentarily stunned, I gape at him.
No. Frantically I shake my head.Absolutely not.
When I spread my legs, it will be for someone a little less rough around the edges. Someone slightly less terrifying.
“Forrest Donnelly,” he introduces, extending his hand.
I’ve been carefully trained to behave as a polite young lady, smiling and never committing the cardinal sin of being anything less than gracious. But if this man touches me, I might go up in flames.
Deciding I am done making catastrophically bad decisions, I ignore his gesture. “I’m afraid I was just leaving, Mr. Donnelly.”
“Were you?” His lips quirk with a tiny smile.
Effortlessly he’s seen through my lie.