The Wrong Path - By Vivian Marie Aubin du Paris Page 0,18

ground, holding her hands against her face to try and hold back her sobs.

“Rough day?”

Startled, she looked up, and seeing no one, continued her gaze upwards. She jumped to her feet and spun around, gaping up at Will, who lounged on the tree branch above her head with a book in his hands.

“Will?” she asked in disbelief. She looked around, but they were alone. “What are you doing up there?”

“Reading.” His dark eyes studied her. “What happened?”

She swallowed hard. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just needed some air.” Seeing Will reading a book in a tree was so different from her image of him that she felt her mood lift a little, curiosity overtaking her. She leaned forward, trying to peer at the cover of his book. “What are you reading?”

He suddenly grinned, turning so his legs dangled in the air. “Why don’t you come up and find out?” he suggested mischievously.

She took a step back, aghast. “What?” she asked, stunned. “No. I-I can’t.”

He set his palms against the branch, and in a graceful movement was down on the ground in front of her, straightening to his full height. Without her heels, she discovered the height difference between them was even greater than it had been at the party. She only came up to his chin, her eyes level with his chest.

“Come on,” he said, tucking the book into the waistband of his jeans. His eyes danced playfully. “Have you ever climbed a tree?”

“No,” she breathed. She couldn’t climb a tree… She was wearing a skirt. And she would get dirty if she tried. Images of skinned hands and knees filled her mind and she shuddered, shaking her head. “No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he insisted. “It’s not like you’re skydiving. It’s easy.”

She tried to protest, but he was already pulling her by her wrist to the other side of the tree. He held her between his body and the tree as he conducted her like a puppet, forcing her hands to grab limb after limb. She struggled, but it was a futile effort. Will was just stronger than she was, and determined.

A sharp stabbing sensation went through her right arm as her grip fell from one of the branches. She sucked in a quick breath of pain, but Will wasn’t going to be deterred, stubbornly forcing her hand back onto the branch. With him climbing up behind her, they were at his previous perch in only a minute or two. Her hand throbbed as she finally sat on the branch, holding it with a frown.

As she sat there, her heart pounding, her palm aching, practically sweating with exertion, she realized she felt oddly triumphant. Despite her protests, she had successfully climbed a tree—something she had never done before. And she had done it in a skirt.

Will dropped onto the branch beside her. There was just barely enough room for the two of them to fit leaning against the tree, and she shifted to make more room for him, resting her left side against his right one. The smell of cologne hung around him, and she couldn’t help but be reminded of the shirt she had washed and folded the night before.

He pulled the book out from his back waistband, holding it out for her to see. “Sinclair Lewis,” she read aloud slowly. “It Can’t Happen Here.” Stunned, she looked up at him. “That’s one of my favorite books.”

He laughed, looking surprised. “Really? You?”

She felt her shock fade to wariness at his tone. “Is that so unbelievable?”

He shrugged, holding the book on his lap. “It just doesn’t seem like the type of thing you would like reading.”

She frowned up at him, confused. “Why?”

He glanced down at her, and she was taken aback by his close proximity. The memory of being in his arms at the party suddenly filled her mind, making her cheeks flush. She had been so sure he had been about to kiss her, but that was crazy—it must have been the drug inducing those thoughts in her mind. She wasn’t even close to Will’s type. Will liked girls like Ebony. And besides that, Will wasn’t her type. She was dating his brother, Trevor!

Flustered, she dropped her gaze to their feet, staring forward, unable to hold his eyes any longer.

He suddenly laughed. She felt her heart fall into her stomach with embarrassment. Had she misread the situation again? Was he making fun of her? Did he think she was a moron who couldn’t read? She had shelves and shelves