This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,31
up the winding driveway. The trees give way to the ostentatious house sitting at the end of the pavement like a gift-wrapped prize. I’m too in awe of the enormous house to notice the slew of cars parked in front of it, but Stone frowns.
“Who’s that?” Wyatt asks.
“Do you even have to ask?”
Lucas curses under his breath. I look between them all. “Well, I have to ask,” I tell them, nerves skittering over my skin.
“Family friends.” Stone forces a smile at me through the rearview mirror. His gray-blue eyes are pleading—like he’s already feeling guilty for what’s about to happen.
Just then, the front door of the house opens, and a girl sticks her head out. She beams wide as soon as she sees the silver Audi and pounces down the stairs in her swinging dress. Her straight-as-silk hair billows around her in golden sheets.
“Fuck,” Wyatt mutters.
The guys open their doors, so I follow, still watching the young girl. Actually, she’s not that much younger—maybe only a year or two behind us.
“Stone!” she squeals, launching herself at him before he’s even closed his car door.
A burning roil of jealousy rages through me as she wraps her legs around his hips. It’s a claiming if I’ve ever seen one and makes the permanent tattoo of his lips on mine fade with their insincerity.
She tilts her head up to him, stars in her eyes, and Stone wordlessly sets her on her feet in front of him. “Hi, Rissa.”
“I missed you,” she pouts, biting her lower lip. She’s overplaying the innocent little girl routine if you ask me.
Stone stares at her. I’d give anything to see his eyes—to get that window into what he’s really thinking—because right now, I feel like a cheap replacement for the girl in front of me. She’s gorgeous. Her movements are refined, her skin practically glowing.
She gazes around, smiling at Wyatt and Lucas, but when she gets to me, her face falls. She tries to hide it but it’s unmistakable. She places a hard smile on her face. “Who’s this?”
Stone finally turns, jaw ticking. “This is Dakota Wilder.”
Her lips part in a silent O. “Oh, Mr. Jacobs failed to mention that there would be someone else here.”
An arm wraps around my hips. I’m thankful for Lucas’ comfort in that moment because I’d really like to crawl inside a cave and stay there. “He failed to mention that to us as well,” I say, giving Stone a look.
I know it’s not his fault. Lance Jacobs I can handle, but more Arizona socialites? I’m not sure. I thought this was going to be about the treasure, not an actual luncheon. What the hell could Lance actually want me here for if that’s what this is?
Rissa turns, loops her arm through Stone’s, and leads him up the front steps.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I grumble.
Lucas leans over to whisper in my ear. “Down girl.”
I glare at him. “What is this about? Why are we here?”
“I have my suspicions.” He pulls me forward to follow after Rissa and Stone who are talking pleasantly in front of us. Wyatt strides alongside us the best he can. There is definite improvement in his gait from yesterday. It could be the pain relievers I saw him take right before we left the house. If he was smart, he would’ve taken an extra one to get through this nonsense.
Then again, if I was smart, I would’ve asked him for one myself.
Lucas lets go of me to help Wyatt up the steps. I move to the cowboy’s other side so he can have someone else to lean on if he needs it.
“God, I hate her,” Wyatt whispers as Rissa and Stone step inside the imposing house. He turns toward me, fingers gliding over my hips.
I ignore how good his touch feels. “Who is she?”
“Marissa Woods. You’ll probably recognize her father when we get inside.”
He’s right; I do. It takes us a while to get in the front entrance, and we’re quickly led to a beautiful sunroom encased in windows. Plants of all different varieties line the walls. Stunning white wicker furniture with bold yet traditional cushions decorate the space, and as Wyatt expected, I recognize some of the people chatting there in yuppie outfits.
“What happened to you?” Rissa asks when we walk in as a trio. Her voice is pert and clipped. She spins to sit next to a woman who could be her older sister, but who I suspect is her mother, and her skirt flares out.