Page 18 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

After struggling for months over the winter to figure out what to do about Robin, I finally came to the decision to avoid him.

I still hate him. I can’t let go of that, of what he did to me. I acknowledge that the resentment is possibly an unnecessary heavy weight to carry, but it’s a less suffocating one than the truly heaviest weight I bear, the one that would bury me if I didn’t have another to focus on.

I already hated Robin for years in our past world, so hating him in this one is easier than anything else.

While hating him still comes easy, somewhere along the way I lost sight of the revenge I so desperately wanted. Between my unexpected attraction for him and that magical force that sent us here suddenly showing back up, I guess vengeance didn’t seem as important anymore.

I didn’t get as much as I thought I wanted, but it has to be enough.

Because I can’t be around him, trying to make myself feel better by hurting him, while fighting the urge to do other things to him.

So avoiding him was the smartest choice.

And I was doing so well at it too.

Then he had to fucking go and put the image of him with someone else in my mind, and I fucking snapped. I tend to do that a lot when it comes to him.

Jealousy has always been a vice of mine.

I was insanely jealous when Marian chose Robin, and I might still be a tiny bit bitter about that too.

But I never in a thousand years thought I’d be jealous when it comes to Robin.

However, just the thought of him with another man—with anyone , to be honest—had me seeing red, the edges of my vision blacking out.

Maybe it’s because he’s the first person I’ve wanted in that way in so long.

Or maybe it’s because I’ve felt a little less alone since finding him in this world—something I still hate to admit. Even though I’ve been the one avoiding him, the thought of someone else taking him away threatens to undo all the progress I’ve made.

Whatever it is, I’ll fucking give Robin what he wants. Only once. I’ll get him out of my system and not care when he does the same with me.

Except it’s already been a week since running into him in the store, and I haven’t seen him since.

What’s worse is I haven’t stopped thinking about him either—not for the past several months, to be honest. I can’t stop thinking about his fucking mouth and how amazing it felt around my cock. He has a pretty mouth too. All full lips with deep, sharp corners. A warm, wet, smooth tongue…

Fuck.

Now I have to wait to get out of my truck to go into the visitor’s center so I don’t walk in there with a fucking erection.

Parking in the lot, I glare around at all the people piling out of cars. It’s the first really busy day of the year, and if they’re already calling me needing my help over here, I’m really not looking forward to the rest of it.

Maybe after I get Robin out of my system, I’ll have Ivy transfer me out of Colorado.

As that thought hits, I spot Robin climbing out of Spencer’s truck.

A sharp pang stabs through my chest, and I reach up to rub at the spot. It’s only my jealousy manifesting as physical symptoms and has nothing to do with my previous thought or with my fear of being alone again if I were to leave.

I watch as Robin rounds the hood of the truck and bumps his shoulder into Spencer’s.

They’re both wearing park shirts, so they must be doing a tour today.

Spencer laughs and shoves Robin back, then Robin throws his arm around the other man’s shoulders as they stumble their way toward the visitor’s center.

Once again, my vision blacks out around the edges.

Definitely just the jealousy.

I know Spencer and Brian are in a committed relationship, but I have no idea if they’re exclusive. And, just like that, I wonder if they’d ever let Robin join them if he admitted his curiosity.

Have they already?

I might end up killing somebody if my thoughts continue heading that way.

Before they enter the building, Robin peers over his shoulder and looks right at me as though he knew I was here the entire time. A smirk curls those sinful lips, and he fucking winks .

I showed my damn jealousy, and now he’s using it against me.

And it’s fucking working.

Throwing my truck in reverse, I back out of my spot and nearly peel out of the lot.

Robin Hood is going to wish he never played fucking games.

It didn’t take long to come up with a plan. When I eventually lose this job because I keep skipping out on responsibilities, hopefully I’ll be able to come up with one for that just as quickly.

But this is more important today.

I checked the schedule and map of the tours for the day, and I know exactly where Robin’s going to be about halfway through. Which should be right about now.

Parking by the trailhead, I get out and follow it down about a quarter of a mile into a small valley. It’s a cold February day, but it’s nice out. The sky is cloudless, letting the sun provide a bit of heat.

Quiet chatter reaches my ears before my eyes land on the group of adults and children, many of them with their cameras out as they take pictures of a white-tailed prairie dog in the distance.

Robin is speaking to the group quietly so as not to spook the creature, but I don’t hear a word he’s saying, still blinded by rage and jealousy.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I say, literally interrupting whatever Robin was talking about, using my best authoritative voice as I march further into the valley.

“Henry?” Spencer’s brow furrows, and he looks just as shocked to see me as Robin does. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take Mr. Locksley in.” As I approach them, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my pair of handcuffs. “You’ll be able to finish the tour on your own, right, Spencer?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes bouncing between me and Robin instead.

Meanwhile, Robin’s surprise at seeing me has vanished and given way to a suspicious scowl as the tour group gawks at me. I almost hope they take pictures of this so I can try to get my hands on them later.

“What did he do?” Spencer asks, placing his hands on his hips like he plans on fighting me about this.

“He stole my truck.”

“That was months ago!” Spencer argues.

“And I’ve decided to press charges now.”

The moment I reach Robin, I grab his arm and spin him around. He doesn’t fight me, probably not wanting to cause a scene in front of an audience. As I slap the cuffs on his wrists, handcuffing them behind his back, he peers at me over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks in a whisper.

“Shut up.”

He rolls his eyes but actually keeps his mouth shut. I wonder if he knows I’m more than happy to shut him up right here in front of everyone.

“Let this be a lesson to never steal a park ranger’s truck,” I tell the tour group as I haul Robin away.

It shouldn’t be a lesson they really need, but it’s satisfying to put emphasis on Robin’s fuckup. They continue staring after us, whispering to themselves and taking pictures. I hope Robin is thoroughly humiliated.

As we head back up the trail, I’m not gentle, dragging him with me as he trips and stumbles over rocks and roots, grumbling and cursing the entire way. He’s lucky that I keep a hold on him when he nearly faceplants into the dirt, steadying him back on his feet.

“Fucking asshole,” he mutters.

“Would you rather I let you fall? Because I can do that.”

I give him another push and just barely catch him again. I might enjoy manhandling him a bit too much.

When we get to my truck, I open the passenger door and shove him inside. His chest heaves as he hangs his head, staring down into his lap. I might feel bad that he thinks I’m actually turning him in if he didn’t fucking ask for this.

Slamming his door closed, I round the truck and get behind the wheel.

I actually get my hopes up when he’s silent for the first two minutes of the drive, pouting instead of running his mouth. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long.

“Why are you doing this now ?” he asks, his gaze fixed out of the windshield, his jaw set.

“Putting me behind bars because you think no other man will be able to touch me in there? Have you never seen television? Can’t stand the thought of another man’s hands on me even though you’re too afraid to do it yourself? ”

I have no idea why I let him go on so long, but the longer he speaks, the more furious I get.

Because… fuck . He’s not entirely wrong.

I wouldn’t say I’ve been afraid . Nervous, yes. I’ve never been with a man before him, and while my discomfort at the fact that I’m probably bisexual like he is has lessened, my unease at the idea of actually doing something about it hasn’t.

The gay porn I’ve shamelessly watched and gotten off to this past week can only teach me so much.

Not to mention, I still don’t understand why it’s me he wants.

As I continue driving through the park, I don’t respond, not wanting to give away that he’s on the right track. Coming to a fork in the road, I turn left instead of the right that would take us out of the park.

Robin looks back before turning his eyes on me. “You’re not taking me to the station? Where the hell are we going?”

Again, I don’t answer.

“What is this? Did you really have to interrupt my tour and embarrass me in front of all those people? You’re such a fucking di—”

I finally decide to shut him up, reaching over and twisting my arm in an awkward angle so I can shove two fingers into his mouth. He grunts and starts breathing heavily again.

“I’m getting really tired of this fucking mouth, Robin.”

When I glance over, he’s scowling at me.

But then his eyes spark with mischief, and he hollows his cheeks and sucks, the tip of his tongue swiping along the crease between my fingers.

I groan as my dick starts to swell in my jeans.

He smirks around my fingers, but I can’t be bothered to care that he’s finding enjoyment in affecting me like this.