Dragon's Fake Wedding Date - Riley Storm Page 0,54

and while some returned the politeness, more than a few were giving her strange looks.

Feeling self-conscious at the unexpected attention, she glanced down at her clothing to ensure everything was still in place and that there were no unwanted rips, stains, etc. Everything seemed to be in place. Worried that it was something she couldn’t see, Gayle hurried her pace, eager to get inside and in front of a mirror.

“Excuse me.”

The unexpected voice came from off to her left, and she jumped as a figure appeared from between two houses.

“Goodness, you scared me,” she said, clasping a hand over her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” the man said, smiling apologetically at her, his gray eyes filling with remorse. “I didn’t intend that. In fact, I was hoping to help you.”

Gayle paused, surprised. “Help me? How? I don’t think I know you, do I?”

“No,” the man admitted, a smile coming to his craggy face.

There was something almost unnatural about it, but despite that thought, Gayle didn’t feel threatened by him.

“What can I do for you then?” she asked, eager to get back to the cabin she was sharing with Rann and prepare for the afternoon.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the woman who came in with Rann last night, aren’t you?”

Gayle nodded. “That’s me, yes.”

The unknown man—she figured him to be a dragon shifter, as well—worked his lips, his mouth small under the almost too-long nose.

“Is something wrong?” she asked when he didn’t immediately continue. “Is Rann okay?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure he’s fine.”

The man looked concerned, and he ran his hand up through his hair, the high-fade cut a modern look among the other shifters she’d seen on the mountain. Many of them preferred a rougher, more rugged appearance. Not this one though.

“Listen, there’s something you need to know about Rann,” he said at last. “It might not be my place to interfere, but I think it’s your right to know.”

Gayle immediately grew wary. “I’m listening,” she said cautiously, wondering what he could possibly say about Rann.

“You look like a nice girl, and I don’t want him taking advantage of you like he has all the others.”

She froze. “The…others?” she asked in a hoarse voice. “What others?”

“All the other women that Rann has been with,” the gray-eyed man said, looking down his long nose at her. “He’s sort of a serial womanizer. He only uses them for sex.”

Gayle snorted. “Everyone has had hookups,” she said with a shrug. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Not like Rann,” the man pressed. “He leads them on, then when he gets bored of them, he just up and leaves. No warning, nothing.”

Gayle opened her mouth to deny it, to say that that couldn’t possibly be the Rann she knew, but before she could speak, a memory came to her. A phrase that the bartender Anne had used the night she’d first met Rann.

Be careful with this one. He’s not an asshole, just a flight risk.

A flight risk.

“Yes,” the man said, watching her reaction. “You see what I mean now, don’t you?”

Was that what Anne had meant when she’d referred to Rann that way? Was that her way of trying to warn Gayle off from him unless all she wanted was sex?

Come to think of it, Rann never denied that comment either. He accepted it at face value. He knew.

Gayle looked around, back down the path she’d come up, remembering the strange looks she’d received. Was that why? Were they looks of pity at Rann’s next victim? It’s not like there were many people who lived there. Word was sure to get around about who she was.

“I hate to be the one who brings you that news,” the man said, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “But I felt it better that you know now, instead of later.”

Gayle shook her head. “I don’t know. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The man looked sad. “I thought you might ask me that,” he said quietly and took out his phone.

Gayle’s blood ran cold, then began to boil as he flicked through his camera roll. On it was picture after picture of Rann. Each time he was with a different woman. Judging by his proximity to them, they were much more than just friends.

“Thank you,” she said after she’d had enough, putting out a hand to cover the screen. “I don’t need to see more.”

Why would she? The evidence was there, and she’d had a warning from the very start about him. She just hadn’t listened, and now