Page 8

At any moment, someone could recognize me and snap a picture of Harper Madison. It would be on all of social media in a matter of minutes. I had to tread carefully.
When I sawhimstalk into the bar with a purpose, he strode over and sat down at the booth in the corner, the largest booth there was.
I couldn’t help but stare at him, transfixed.
I wanted to go over, strike up a conversation and apologize for being a brat earlier, but I couldn’t move from my position.
His name was Lincoln. At least that had been the name on his coffee cup unless the girl had gotten his name wrong too?
His friends showed up, and eventually, he headed to the bar for a drink. That was my excuse, my chance to talk to him, which led me to a bad joke and the concern that he might have me arrested.
He’d been polite, and I’d earned his attention after buying him a beer. It was the least I could do, and while I should have come out and apologized for my behavior that morning, I found it too difficult to voice the words.
“What are you doing in Breckenridge?” he asked.
“I’m here to blow up the town.” It was a joke. A lame joke since I’d shown up to help film a movie.
“Excuse me?” Lincoln asked, his eyes wide and mouth agape.
My joke about being here to blow up the town hadn’t gone over well.
He put his drink down hard on the bar, forceful.
“It was a joke.”
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me off the stool. His eyes raked over my body, sending a shiver down my spine.
Did he recognize me?
I hadn’t been in disguise, but the bar was dimly lit, and this was a small town.
“Do I need to call the sheriff?” Lincoln asked. His grip didn’t loosen from my wrist.
Quickly, he could yank both of my arms behind my back and restrain me.
Is that what he wanted to do?
A small part of me wanted that from him, his dominance.
He was a good-looking guy, and his brooding nature sent a shiver down my spine and made me feel warm and tingly all over.
“It was a joke,” I repeated and shrugged my arm in an attempt to unclasp myself from his clutches. “Would you let me go?”
His eyes were tight and narrow, his jaw sharp. Is this what it was like to piss him off?
I didn’t want to witness his wrath when he was angry.
“There’s nothing funny about threatening our town,” Lincoln said.
He unlatched his hand from my wrist, and I pulled my arm away in a hurry. I rubbed my wrist where his hand had held me tight, but there was no mark.
“Why are you really here, Harper? Is that even your real name?”
I exhaled a heavy breath through my nose, staring at my wrist, surprised there wasn’t a bruise, a red mark, any evidence that he’d touched me. “Yes. No.” I could still feel his firm grip, even though his hands were nowhere near my body.
“Which is it?”
“It’s complicated,” I said.