Arrogant Bastard - Jennifer Dawson Page 0,42

the dust from her car, leaving a path in her wake as she speeds down the treelined drive. I frown, not sure where she might have gone.

I want to follow her.

Wyatt comes to stand next to me, looking off in the same direction.

The question that comes out of my mouth is telling, but I can’t stop it. “Do you know where she’s going?”

Wyatt shoots me a sidelong glance. “Is it any of your business?”

“Nope.” That’s honest, because it’s not. Except it feels like it is, like maybe I’m partially responsible for her distress. My jaw clenches. I made a mistake provoking her this morning. Now I need to rectify it. “But I still want to know.”

Wyatt shifts, addressing me directly. “And why’s that?”

Why is that? It’s a valid question. One I don’t have a good answer to, so I make a statement instead. “She’s upset.”

“Yeah.” He squints at me. “Do you think you can change that?”

“Probably not.” I’ll probably make it worse.

“Then why should I tell you where I think she’s gone?”

Brothers aren’t something I’m used to contending with, especially ones as protective of Cat as Wyatt and Jackson are. Again, I go for honest. “Because I think I can help with her struggle.”

“By making it worse? How does that work?”

I shrug. “Sometimes things have to get worse in order to get better.”

“Fair point.” He raises a brow. “Is there something going on between you and my sister?”

I slide one hand into my jeans pocket. Don’t have a great answer to that, but he’s already at the truth anyway, so what does it matter? I give him a sharp nod. “Yeah.”

“I thought so.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “One of the VPs at the meeting took a liking to her.”

At his words, my gut tightens. “Can’t say I blame him.”

“You should have seen her back in the day.”

The statement niggles at me, and I chase it down. “Care to explain?”

“Not really.” He flashes me a grin. “I told her if the guy asked her out, she should go for it.”

I grind my teeth at the prospect of her dating someone. Of his hands on her.

“And how do you feel about that?” His head tilts.

“Not great.”

“I’ve got to admire your honesty.”

“It’s all I have to my name at this point.” Not entirely true, but close. My evasions have nothing to do with honesty. It’s just the way it has to be.

“She’ll be back.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But you don’t want to wait for her?”

“Nope.” I’d rather get to her now—away from this place so we can talk.

He falls silent, and we both turn, looking out at the sugar cane blowing in the breeze.

Just when I’m sure he’s not going to tell me, he sighs. “Usually when she’s upset she goes to visit our mother at the cemetery.”

Relief loosens my tight muscles, and I’m already plucking my keys from my pocket. “Where’s that?”

“Old Country Road, about a mile past Main. Can’t miss it. My mom’s buried in the fifth row on the left.”

“Got it.” I start walking, but he calls after me.

“Caden.”

I turn back. “Yeah?”

He gives me a hard look, one I’m sure brothers have been wearing since the beginning of time. “If you hurt her, if you make her cry, you’ll be forced to deal with Jackson and me.”

Since we’re being all open and shit, I state the obvious. “You know I can’t promise that.”

“I know. But you’ll still have to answer.”

“Fair enough.” Because it is. It’d be smart to stay away and do the job they’re paying me for, but I can’t. I need to make sure she’s okay. Her being upset did something to me, and I can’t let it go.

My fatal flaw.

I can practically see the path laid in front of me, along with the implosion at the conclusion, and I still can’t let it be.

Wyatt nods. “Just as long as we’re clear.”

“Crystal.” And with that, I go to my truck and climb in.

Fifteen minutes later, I spot her car parked on the side of the cemetery, just where Wyatt said it would be.

I pull up behind the vehicle and search the rows of graves before I spot her sitting on the grass, still bright and pretty in her dress. I shut off the engine and climb out without a clue of what I’m going to say.

I walk over, and she raises her head. It’s hard to see her face in the blinding sun, but she looks like an angel in her buttercup dress, skirt flowing around her,

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