Page 7 of Making It Up

“Is it a friend?”

“Kind of.” Tim and I are friendly.

Tim and his wife Donna are out of town this weekend, but I know he’ll be fine with us staying here considering the circumstances. I’d text him and ask, but it’s late and I’m sure he’s already in bed.

I flip on the lights and pull up my weather notifications and messages.

The tornado warning is still in effect. The rain is still coming down in torrents and…yep, there’s the hail. Pinging off the roof, the sidewalk…and my new truck.

I blow out a breath.

Then I turn and look at the woman I rescued.

And realize in a heartbeat that hail damage and insurance claims are the least of my problems.

Goddammit.

This woman is beautiful. Even soaking wet and wind-blown.

And I’m going to be stuck with her here for the next couple of hours. At least.

And, matching right up with the crappy fucking day I’ve had, I do know who she is.

This is Mia Hansen.

The daughter of the man I consider my one and only enemy.

CHAPTER 2

MIA

David Castille Bennett is incredibly good-looking. Even when he’s scowling. Which he’s been doing a lot since he picked me up tonight.

He’s never scowled at me before.

Of course, he’s never smiled at me before tonight either.

We’ve never made eye contact at all before tonight that I can think of.

If I’ve ever been this close to him, it was years ago, when I was much too young to appreciate it.

But just a couple of weeks ago, I noticed him working with his dad, brothers, and some other guys setting up booths and the dunk tank for our annual summer festival, and even from about fifty yards away, I noted David’s muscles, bronze skin, and tattoos.

And I appreciated the hell out of them.

Just David’s though, interestingly. He wasn’t the only guy there without a shirt on. He wasn’t even the only good-looking guy there. But he was the only one who pulled my gaze.

And now here he is.

Up close.

And scowling.

I tip my head, studying him. His intense brown eyes, his windswept, slightly curly on top and around his ears brown hair, the scruff on his jaw, the hoop earring in his left ear, the bit of ink on his forearms peeking out from under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.

I take it all in. I mean, I might not get another chance.

We’ve both lived in Sapphire Falls for twenty years and this is the first time we’ve ever had a one-on-one conversation.