Page 6 of Hurricane (Happy Hour #1)

Colby

H e seems legitimately upset.

I guess he’s right. He never really has. I just felt like one. But I believed I was safe to let go with him that night and thought he was disgusted. I don’t know how to explain all that to him, so I nod.

His solid body softens slightly.

After he releases my face, warm lips press against my forehead. The tenderness amidst his anger surprises me.

And pleases me.

And scares me.

The bitterness I’ve carried all this time is starting to seem misplaced.

The anger driving my hatred for him could be unjustified.

The shame I’ve endured might be unwarranted.

I scan his face. The disappointment pulsing in his expression is an emotion I never expected to see.

My aversion to an arranged marriage is different from my loathing of him. Maybe I intertwined the two when I shouldn’t have.

It’s my father who should be feeling my ire.

Not Lucian.

My future husband.

The man who isn’t repulsed by me after all.

I don’t know how to handle this revelation.

So I don’t.

Not right now anyway.

I can only deal with one issue at a time. I have to talk to Mirabel to find out why she didn’t give me Lucian’s message.

She knew how he destroyed me, and she never said a word. I’m trying not to jump to conclusions as I’m sure she has an explanation.

My pulse races. But I can’t figure out what reason she would have to let me suffer like this.

Drawing in a deep breath to calm down, I face Lucian. He still looks furious. The ideas are swirling in his mind too I would guess. “Will you take me home please?”

A smirk I don’t expect suddenly brightens his expression.

“You are home, mama. But I’ll take you to your apartment.”

Oh my God. He can never be serious. “Fine. Take me to my apartment.”

The huge, goofy grin on his face confirms he delights once again in aggravating me. Yet his grip on my hand is not playful. Somehow, in a way I don’t fully understand, our relationship has changed.

I’m not sure if we’ll ever go back.

I’m not sure if I want to.

He leads me through the house and outside to his vehicle. His concern over helping me into the SUV and ensuring my seatbelt is fastened impacts me more than I want to admit. How have I not realized his gentleness with me despite the brutality in the rest of his life?

“There you go doll face.”

His thumb strokes over my cheek before he steps back and closes the door.

Despite my best intentions to despise him, I watch him with wonder as he strides to his side.

His gaze flicks all around, always on the alert for danger regardless of the cameras and security guards everywhere on the property.

He protects me.

The thought hits me hard.

Without a shadow of a doubt, I know he would save my life even if it meant losing his.

Wow.

I really have been dense.

Luckily, once he’s next to me, he remains quiet. I’m grateful as conversation is the last thing I can manage with my head feeling like it’s exploding.

In the reprieve, we ride in silence to old town. I spend the twenty minutes trying to craft the best way to ask Mirabel what happened without sounding like I’m accusing her of something. I fail.

Time is up as Lucian parks in front of the Victorian that houses my apartment.

Never once in the past three years have I not loved coming home.

With the black iron fence surrounding the property, thick wooden arches lining the front porch, and stained-glass windows, the small mansion has always been my refuge from the violent world encompassing my family.

I will miss living here.

Lucian scans the area of late nineteenth century homes with cobblestone streets and wide sidewalks. Nothing seems amiss, and he comes around for me.

He takes my hand again which isn’t as disgusting as the gesture used to be. At the front door, I turn to tell him good-bye but he stuns me by tapping on the keypad. “How did you know the code?”

“I know everything about you, love.”

Anger and pleasure battle within me. Which staggers me even more.

Normally, I’m furious at him. Now with an actual conversation rather than a squabble, I think I finally understand him and his ways.

Even though he’s never been here before—at least I don’t think—he guides me up the magnificent wooden staircase to my door.

Mirabel’s back is to us while she works in the kitchen.

“Step softly. I’ve got a souffle in the oven.”

The old floor creaks under Lucian’s stocky body, and my friend spins around aware I’m not the one walking across the living room to the kitchen.

Her eyes widen as she searches my face for understanding since she didn’t expect him to be here either.

He speaks first. “Why didn’t you give her my message at the hotel in New Orleans?”

So much for my desire to be subtle.

Even though they’re at least ten feet apart, she stumbles backwards bumping into the table dusted with flour and cocoa and her mouth opens and closes without emitting a single sound.

My heart aches. I recognize her guilty look.

She shakes her head. “I…I thought you…”

I step in front of him. This is between her and I, not her and him. “I want to believe you have a good reason but I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. You knew how hurt I was.”

Randomly, she grabs a dish towel and turns to sweep the mess behind her. As if keeping busy protects her. “I forgot. It was a busy morning.”

Unfair for her to play games. “Just be honest. You owe me that.”

After a long minute, she drops the cloth and spins around, hugging herself. We wait her out because I need to know.

Finally, she looks up from the floor. “I was mad at you. Shana took off with that guy she met, and you left with Lucian. I ended up in New Orleans all alone when we were supposed to be having a fun girls time. I knew you didn’t want to marry him anyway so I thought it didn’t matter.”

Lucian growls behind me. “It does matter because you fucking hurt her by not telling her.”

He’s right. She did hurt me. I nod in agreement. “You had so many chances to make this right.”

Defensiveness makes her angry apparently because she lifts her head with a defiant chin. “Don’t give me that. It’s not my fault you have to marry someone you hate. I was trying to help you. You should be thanking me instead of blaming me!”

The disintegration of our friendship is something else I never expected tonight. “You still should have told me. I deserve to make my own decisions.”

“Tell your Dad that. Not me.”

She stalks away to her room, slamming the door. So much for her souffle.

So much for us.

Strong arms wrap around me, and I jump from the sensation. No one has ever comforted me before. I want to sink into him so badly and let him hold me until I feel better, but I resist.

No one can ever think I’m weak.

Including Lucian.

“Her loss. You’re better off without a friend like that”

A swirl of emotions engulfs me.

Gratitude from his concern.

Irritation he’s proclaimed Mirabel out of my life.

Sorrow from her betrayal.

He kisses the top of my head. “Get what you need for tonight. I’ll send someone to get the rest.”

Ugh. Once again, he’s trying to make my decisions for me. “I’m not going home with you.”

“You sure as hell can’t stay here.”

“This is my apartment too, and I’m not leaving until I’m ready.”

Forceful hands whirl me around, but concern rather than annoyance floods his expression. “You don’t always have to be tough. It’s okay to be upset.”

Is it? My father never gave a damn about my feelings, and my mother only focused on keeping my father happy, lest his temper lash out at us.

Does Lucian really care about me, or does he just want to control me?

Another question I don’t have an answer to.